Two Sides of the Moon
by RosieStars
Summary: "My mother is the human, Captain Amadahy, and my father is an assassin and a King, Draven of the Moonshadow elves, and I am not like either. But beware my wrath for I am of both." The story of a boy with elven and human blood, a girl with an inside source of magic, a Moonshadow elf assassin who doesn't want to kill, a "step-prince" with a sky orb, and a child who talks to animals.
1. Past and Future

_And so the lands were forever torn apart by the actions of humans._

_With war brewing and centuries of wrongdoings and prejudice between Xadia and the human kingdoms seemed without end. Then something happened. Some tell a darker version of it involving a female warrior being taken advantage of by a stronger, more powerful elf, but in reality, to them at least, the truth is even stranger._

_Twenty years before the dragon king had been slaughtered, the heir to the Moonshadow elven throne, Prince Draven, found a human soldier unconscious and badly burned yet still breathing near the border of Xadia. Despite that this would not be the first nor last life he'd taken, despite the years training day and night to fight as an assassin and a king, he couldn't find it within him to kill this one, especially one so defenseless who had yet to do anything to him._

_And so he took pity on her and snuck her into his home and ensured her return to health while keeping her presence secret, with the knowledge only known to one young mage, although in exchange for that discretion, he would choose her to be his future queen in the years to come. Yet even after the warrior was well enough to leave, she stayed far longer than she should have because she and the prince had fallen in love._

_Neither had been what the other had expected, and that perhaps would be the reason behind their more lenient treatment of the other's kind compared to their own people after their departure and in future years. They both knew it wouldn't - couldn't last and that they had their own responsibilities and duties, which meant it was time for the soldier to return to her realm. After all, remaining in Xadia was dangerous, and even staying the months she did was pushing it._

_Between them, a son had been born of elven and human blood, the first since the divide of the lands. This especially put the soldier at risk not only in Xadia but in the human kingdoms since Prince Draven, soon to be King was a powerful and important figure in Xadia and she'd spent months carrying the greatest bargaining chip to his enemies. Still, both agreed it was safer for her to take their son back to the human realms than remain with Draven out of love or a sense of duty. With the stakes high if any find out about their affair, the prince only had time to hold his son after he was born and name him before he had his mage and future bride transport his love outside the borders._

_Draven had named him Rhun._

_As the boy grew older, a prophecy was told that he would one day make a choice crucial to whether or not there will be one final war of all wars. And of which land would loose yet another king. Many have misinterpreted this telling, thinking that Rhun, the firstborn of King Draven, and the boy born of human and elven blood, must choose which of his heritage to side with and fight for. But his choice is neither. His choice is not for war, but for **peace**._


	2. Their Present and History

Rhun was a...special kid, as his mother would say. But in his own way, and that didn't make him at all that much stranger than everybody else.

Alright, so he looked a bit different than other teenagers his age, but not by much. And so he had three parents who loved him—four if he counted his stepmother in Xadia—and maybe that was more than most teenagers his age had, but not by much. Besides, that just meant he had more people to love. Of course, there was also that one, tiny detail about him that made him a bit strange compared to others...but not by _much_.

Or at least that's what Rhun told himself about that last part. Because technically he was wrong.

How more stranger could you be when you knew you were half elf after all? _Moonshadow_ elf, of all things, to make it worse, the worst kind of elf in humans' eyes. Well, Rhun tried his hardest not to think of that and just tried to keep his head down, barely going outside or talking to anyone, or making any friends. Though his mother and stepmother—both of them— encouraged him to do otherwise, saying he looked relatively human enough so there was nothing to worry about.

_Relatively_ human, as if that's supposed to make me feel better, Rhun thought to himself with a huff as he walked through the village, his head low. It didn't matter how relatively human he looked when everyone could tell there was _something_ off about him even if they couldn't pinpoint what.

Rhun's hair was dark auburn, like his mother's with a matching copper complexion, but he had the pale violet eyes of his father that would make people stare when he served his stepmother, Rosella's customers at the bakery at times she needed a hand running things. His thick hair was a hassle to brush in the morning as Rosella had grumbled many times while she found a way to outsmart and tame it until all was in its current loose bun with only a few strands threatening to escape, but at least it hid most of his ears which tapered to a sharp point that he often had to keep covering whenever he felt them poke out. The hardest part to explain away was his hands; though one had five fingers, the other had only four, the story for them ranging from a bad accident, or the simpler tale that it was a mere birth defect. Faintly darker marks than his skin tone went through and around his eyes, and in a line down his chin from his bottom lip to his neck, all where he assumed his markings would be in his father's culture; they could have been birthmarks and no one would have known any better. No one, but Rhun and his family unless the moon was full and high in the sky.

Still, Rhun supposed he was fairly human in appearance, with his eyes the shade of his father's but the shape of his mother's. And yet, he wouldn't take that chance, knowing the way everyone looked at him out the corner of their eyes or when they thought he didn't see them, and especially knowing how these people felt about elves of any kind. Someone finding him to be the son of King Draven of the Moonshadow elves? Why not sign his own death warrant?

And it wasn't like the people of Xadia would accept him either. After all, he was half _human_, a thing most Xadians despised, and unless it was night or the full moon, he did take most after his mother. It felt weird at times, to never be enough or to be too much of either of his parents' races to fit in...anywhere, really. No matter which world he lived in, he'd still be shunned for having his heart as half Xadian and half Human. Rhun's parents seemed to be the only exception to that way of thinking. Rosella and his Xadian stepmother, Desdemona, his father's wife and queen, may not have been his birth parents, but Rhun still considered them family, just as they considered him so.

His father had never shunned or forgotten him, not once. They wrote each other as often as possible by bird, and every once in a while Draven would arrange a spot for them to see and speak to each other face to face, where neither of them would be spotted. In those meetings, Draven had taught Rhun some of the Moonshadow elves culture and how to wield a blade (his mother did so, too, but she was gone too often for it stick). His wife Desdemona had a somewhat fondness for Rhun as she had been there when he was born and had used her healing magic to help his mother after Draven found her. She wrote him as well and sometimes came with Draven to show him runes though Rhun had expressed his dislike and uncertainty of using magic for himself, but there was a line between them that neither of them as stepson and stepmother knew precisely how to cross. Rhun knew that Draven still loved his mother, and he undeniably loved Rhun. At the same time, however, they both knew they had their own places in their own realms. And Rhun knew he had a half-sister in Xadia who would be Draven's heir and who he knew all about yet she knew not even his existence.

Rhun's mother, Amadahy, was off protecting the Breach, and though she had fought off elves, she showed more gentleness toward them than anyone else on The Standing Battalion. She was a good fighter, and a good asset to the army. Still, with such a deep-rooted hatred of Xadia, especially in Amadahy's commander, General Amaya, Rhun wasn't sure what they would do to her if anyone ever found out just what had happened during her time of disappearance.

There were rumors, of course. There were bound to be when a female soldier disappears by the Xadian border for a little over a year, and comes back with a newborn child. Rumors that made people look at him out the corner of their eyes. Rumors that made even General Amaya, who knew Rhun after being friends as well as sisters in arms with his mother for as long as she had, stare at Rhun sometimes with a hint of suspicion in her eyes.

Rhun suspected even if he did have friends, or decided to join the army like his mother, he'd always stand on his own. How was it one could be surrounded by people and yet feel so alone?

He weaved in and out of the crowd, trying to reach the shop a few feet away. Just as he was about to enter, someone bumped into him, and he stumbled backward. "Hey—"

The snap died on his lips as he saw who it was. In fact, he forgot how to speak completely. A pretty teenage girl with tawny skin, small gold and silver chains and beads decorating her loose black curls and draping over her forehead, nodded to him, her dark eyes dancing as they looked him over. She had an exotic look about her, clearly not from the small village, or the kingdom of Katolis in general, even her colorful clothing setting her apart, a bright blue cloak tied around her shoulders, but she carried herself like she wasn't that different after all. "Sorry," she said, a lilt to her voice before walking off.

Wordless, Rhun waved bye. "It's alright…" he finally said after she was probably a foot or so out of earshot.

"Dude, she just totally robbed you," a young man snickered into his ear as he passed. Almost instantly, Rhun snapped out his reverie at the sudden enlightenment and checked for his pouch at his hip, finding only empty space where it had been.

He looked up to see the hood of the girl's bright blue cloak pulled up over her head as it disappearing into the crowd. "Hey, thief!" This time, she turned at the sound of his voice, alert. And of course, like any sane person, she ran.

He raced after her, dodging people and pushing through until with a groan, he leapt onto a sign post and swung up onto the roof of a nearby store, running along and jumping from roof to roof as he followed her. Some people watched, some people even cheered the girl on, and stepped out the way as they laughed in amusement. Which probably meant this was a regular thing for her. And she had never been caught.

Well, time to put an end to that streak.

Right as she turned into an alley, Rhun jumped off onto the street so he landed before her, and without missing a beat for her to run off again, he grabbed the collar of her cloak and lifted her clean off the ground as he brought her to his eye level. Considering her predicament and the fact her feet were dangling almost a foot off the ground, she seemed somewhat calm if not slightly surprised at the sudden turn of events.

"Thief," he said. It was more a statement than an accusation this time.

"Brilliant observation," the girl retorted with more than a healthy dose of sass for someone in her situation. "I suppose you'll be wanting your money back now?"

"That would be nice, unless you want me to turn you in to the guards? Prison sound fun to you?" Rhun asked with a raised eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes, but dug into her pockets and tossed his pouch at the ground between them. In return, he dropped her unceremoniously, and grabbed the bag, taking a small set of bells from his pocket and tying them on to the straps in case the girl tried anything a second time. "Can't blame a girl for trying to get your attention," she shrugged.

"You can when her method is robbing that person blind." He looked her over, no longer blinded by her initial beauty to notice the details. Besides her cloak, she wore a white blouse with long flowing sleeves, a vibrant teal sash tied across her hips, decorative coins hanging from the hem, and a long, rich purple skirt that reached a few inches above her ankles, making her speed all the more shocking and the fact she didn't stumble even once. A simple cuff ornamented her wrist, and a silver chain was wrapped loosely around her left ankle, small charms dangling from it. It was then he realized he'd seen that type of style before. "You're one of those—"

"Gypsies?" she finished in a sour tone, hands on her hips. "Personally, I prefer the term Romani, but yes."

After staring at her a moment, Rhun thought of all the things he'd heard about gypsies—or Romani as she had called it. He knew they were basically a group of humans shunned by others because of their lifestyle and things told about them in general. He'd heard how they were a nomadic people who never did well within stone walls. He'd also heard that they were often thought to be criminals, thieves and liars, not to mention naturals at dark magic. A common saying around most kingdoms were that you could never trust a gypsy. Yet, weren't there same things told about humans to elves, or others about elves to humans? And wasn't it true that most didn't even truly apply to most of either races?

He fished out a small amount of coins from his pouch, and after gathering them into his hand, held it out toward her. Her eyes widened at the gesture, clearly not expecting this turn of events. Then they narrowed. "I don't want your pity," she snapped.

"It's not pity. If you're stealing, you probably need it more than I do," Rhun shrugged. After a long moment staring at him, probably trying to tell whether what his intentions were, she moved. Hesitantly, she inched forward and snatched the money, putting it into her pocket.

"Thanks," she said reluctantly, taking a step backwards. "You have four fingers."

Eyes widening, Rhun quickly hid his left hand behind his back. "Four fingers?!" he squeaked, giving a shaky laugh. Of course, his bad luck knew no bounds. He just had to be left handed. "That's—that's ridiculous! See—" he held out his right hand, wiggling all five fingers—"All five, here and accounted for! "

The unimpressed look she sent his way told him how much she bought his lie. But she didn't push. "Alright, but you should know, less talking and convincing makes it sound more believable." She turned, but flashed him a small smile as she made to leave. "You know, you're a fool. But a sweet fool."

"Thanks? I think."

"Maybe you'll see me around." As she left, she pulled her hood up again, she called over her shoulder, "If you ever come looking for me, ask for Tzipora." And with that, she was gone. And he would see her again, of course, many times afterward in fact. Ironic how such a meeting could evolve into something between them.

Perhaps it was because they both knew what it meant to not really belong anywhere. Maybe because they both knew how it was to feel alone even with people you love. Maybe because it didn't hurt so bad to be alone together. Maybe because even if they couldn't tell each other exactly why, they understood each other, and allowed the other to speak of their past and troubles in time when they wanted. People had a habit of thinking their love a strange one.

And really, how was that different than most? It wasn't that much stranger than anybody else by much.

After all, stranger things had happened. Rhun was proof of that.


	3. Moon Rising

_**Three Years Later**_

Rhun hadn't expected his father's letter to come when he came home that day. A raven had simply been waiting by the windowsill, a piece of paper in his beak.

Thanking him and carefully stroking his feathers, Rhun took the letter from his mouth and noted it to have the seal of his father. When Draven first started sending them, Amadahy had worried about the risks, how someone else could read it, and had expressed these worries, but Rhun trusted his father without a doubt. He knew his father had instructed the raven exactly how to keep it from falling into the wrong hands; if the raven didn't recognize any of the humans of the house or really if anyone, human or elf, that he didn't recognize or even if he did but who the letter wasn't assigned to, he would bite and fend them off, or he would tear it to shreds until it was illegible.

Unfortunately, when it came to Rhun, such precautions had to be taken. However, his father never stated it as if the discovery of his bloodline would harm him in any way, although Rhun knew very well it would, only speaking of what would happen to Rhun and the danger he'd be in. If anything, he thought Draven to be more at risk. For his people to know he had fraternized with their enemy, and for him to have taken it a step forward and have _him_? It was doubtful if anyone would follow him after hearing that.

As Rhun unrolled the scroll, he saw only a few words scribbled down, his father's usual tidy handwriting slanted and the cursive letters looking as if it'd been written with hurry, nearly blurring together. Rhun was barely able to read it, but he could decipher the gist of it. All it had was a location, and Draven's signature at the bottom.

Brows furrowed, Rhun folded up the letter again and turned to the raven still waiting on the windowsill. He gently stroked its feathers and broke off a small piece of bread from his recent trip to Rosella's bakery before extending it to the bird. "Thank you. You may go back home now," he said with a small smile, watching the raven take the food and fly off.

As far as the raven was gone into the horizon, so was Rhun's smile. Grabbing a pair of batons and hiding them on his person, he left the house and made his way to the woods. There wasn't much Rhun could do if his father were in trouble, him being an important figure in Xadia and thus his life was always at some risk, but he always did the best he could however little.

His family had their own talents, and they were all vastly different. To the point that the rare moments all of them could gather in a rare sight and feeling of being an actual family, it would make them laugh from the irony. Rhun's mother was a soldier and even before, a hunter, Rosella was a baker, his father was an assassin as well as king and operated best by shadows, and Desdemona was a mage, a strong one at that. And Rhun? Rhun was a craftsman.

Over time, Rhun had created weapons from studying his father's own and their design, selling them to others in the village for a pretty penny, and had earned a reputation for such. He also used that talent and what little magic he learned from Desdemona to make Draven things to protect him, and things to alert Rhun to Draven's state of being. Each of them were created with determination and care.

The first things he'd created were his own weapons and his father's. They were durable and versatile. For months, he'd studied the functions and observed Draven's fighting style, the one he had learned, and noticed he was good at both long and short distance, so he ensured the weapon had the flexibility of both at his advantage. Rhun had spent countless hours and days designing it, sketching out drawing after drawing and reworking his vision until it was perfect. When he moved on to making it, he took his time as he carefully sculpted and perfected the weapon. It wasn't unusual for Rhun to fall asleep at his workbench, working tirelessly all night.

The result was successful, and afterward, Rhun had made a matching set for himself, the pair of batons he stowed in his jacket now. Harmless at first sight beside something to hit someone to hit over the head with, but not at all so if one knew how to use it right.

On top of these things, he also made his father the metal cuffs that Draven always wore on his horns, and Rhun had made a pair for himself as well but for his wrists – with a special addition, two rubies, one on each that he'd tied to Draven's well being. From what Desdemona told him, it wasn't unusual for talismans, accessories, or decorations to be enchanted with magical properties, so Rhun took full advantage of the opportunity, asking her for advice and help through letters. Anything to know that his father was well.

As Rhun approached the meeting spot, he checked for any sound, eyes searching. He waited, and waited, then finally, a rustle in the branches. Rhun looked up and backed away, someone dropping from the tree before him. The person stayed hidden in the shadows, only lavender eyes visible through the darkness, almost glowing.

With a lighthearted scoff and laugh, Rhun folded his arms across his chest. "Cut the dramatic flare, Dad," he said.

"I see just like your mother, you prefer not to beat around the bush." The dark figure chuckled, then rose and stepped into the fading light as the sun started to set. There wasn't much noticeable that Rhun shared with Draven, besides his eyes and ears, Draven's skin pale with a violet undertone. However, Rhun's facial structure, his square jaw, the shade his hair would take during the night where his hair would bleach to the very roots until it was the color of the moon, those were all his father's. Their marks were different, as well, his most prominent one a blue tattoo in the shape of a crescent moon upside down on his forehead, and the others circular patterns along his cheekbones. Then again, all elves' markings were different to each.

The two embraced, Rhun breathing in his scent of the forest, and when they separated, Rhun noted something different. Growing up, as a child, Rhun had found joy in playing with and braiding his father's long white hair, even longer than Desdemona's as it reached a few inches past his knees in a braid. Now, though, those same locks were newly shorn, barely reaching his neck as the wind teased it. What worried Rhun more was the meaning behind it.

Once Rhun had asked why Draven grew out his hair as long as it was. He told him that among Moonshadow royalty, it was tradition for the ruler to grow their hair long for the years they managed to avoid war. And though for years, tensions had begun high and Xadia had been on the brink of one with the human kingdoms, Draven had managed to keep it from going too far into an all-out war. But just barely.

And seeing Draven's shortened hair did not bring Rhun piece of mind. "What's wrong?" he demanded. "Something's happened, hasn't it?"

His expression turned grave, Draven nodded. "Four moons ago, the humans of this kingdom struck down the King of the Dragons," he said, a pained look in his eyes.

"Thunder?"

"The very same," he sighed, shaking his head. It seemed he also missed the presence of his braid, occasionally running a hand through his hair and Rhun didn't miss the discomfort on Draven's face every time it came to an abrupt end. "If that weren't enough, they destroyed his only egg, the Dragon Prince. I have tried my best, but now... Now it is out of my hands." Though his eyes were hard, there was a hint of softness to his voice pleading for Rhun to understand.

With a sigh, Rhun sat on a large boulder, not meeting his father's eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The Dragon Queen desires vengeance for her loss. The elves desire justice. Justice against King Harrow and his son, Prince Ezran." At this, Rhun looked up. "Even if I hadn't agreed to the mission, I believe Runaan might have gone out anyway?"

"Runaan?"

"Assassins, Rhun. He's the leader of a team of assassins. He does not particularly feel well about striking down a child along with his father, but he is committed. If nothing else, Runaan believes in justice. He has conviction, and once he makes up his mind, no one can ever change it – not even me."

"But that's not fair!" Rhun scrambled up. He had seen the young prince before, usually accompanied by his older half-brother and King Harrow's stepson, Prince Callum. Sometimes they'd be followed by a guard, but within half an hour, they'd escape them, and walk around the village freely. Ezran had a particular love for Rosella's jelly tarts, and Rhun found the young boy to be sweet. "Ezran just turned ten. He's no harm to anyone. To kill the King...is something I can't agree with but I understand. But his son?"

"That's politics." This time, Draven was the one unable to meet his eyes, turning his back to him, hands clasped behind. "Child or not, we cannot leave an heir, someone who may wish vengeance in return for his father's death, or someone who, being so young, could be manipulated so effortlessly by advisors whispering into his ear." He gave a heavy sigh. "Justice cannot be denied. And I believe you know how it will be after the King and his son are dead."

Rhun did. With the crown and heir dead, someone will demand vengeance on the elves and take out someone important to them in kind. And the cycle would go on, one of never-ending hatred and violence. "I don't understand why making peace is so hard!" he exploded. "The humans don't want to die, and I'm pretty sure you all don't want to die, so why can't you just come to an agreement?!"

"It's not so simple. After centuries of wrongs on all sides, wrongs I can no longer say we are completely blameless for, no one is willing to trust nor forget. Not everyone shares my view after meeting your mother and having you. They believe humans to be vile creatures, and they've finally taken a step too far." He faced Rhun and placed his hands on Rhun's shoulders. "Tomorrow night is the full moon, and Runaan and his team will strike when the moon is highest in the sky. I insisted on joining them in this mission to come find you, to warn you, but considering the target, I'm uncertain whether I'll come back." Draven's grip tightened as Rhun's eyes widened and he tried to back away. "I won't discourage you from warning anyone—regardless of the casualties if you so, but I need you to do something for me."

"An—anything. "

"I want you to leave the village and go somewhere safe, anywhere safe, until the mission is complete. There's another human village East where you can—"

"What? Hide?" Rhun shook his father off, taking a step back. "No, I want to help! I can—" His hands had moved to take out his batons, but Draven saw him, and grabbed his wrists tightly just as they had grabbed the handles.

"And which side exactly would you be helping?" he demanded in a stern but not unkind tone.

Rhun opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out as Draven released his grip. His first thought was to help his father, but to do so would mean allowing the murder of his king and a child, and to reveal himself on both sides. Staring at the ground, he mumbled, defeated, "I don't know."

"And I'm not asking you to," Draven said. "I understand your allegiance to both me, and to your king, and I wouldn't dream of forcing you to choose. You have a good heart, just like your mother." He lifted Rhun's head to meet his eyes. "I would never ask you to take a life; all life is precious, and you've never taken before. Some don't have it in them, and sometimes I think they're better off that way."

"What about Theodosia?"

"Your sister?" Draven wryly chuckled, looking off in the distant. "She takes after Desdemona, a mage-in-training. She's seventeen now, so she would be near taking the throne anyway. If anything happens to me, her mother will find her a suitor, and she'll be queen. However, I doubt she'll show the humans any mercy."

"Dad..." The words died on Rhun's throat, and he burst forward to wrap his arms around Draven who returned the embrace. For all they knew, it could be there last. The words Rhun had almost said hung in the air, but they both knew.

As they separated, Draven took the opportunity to ruffle Rhun's hair, making it stick up in all directions and some strands escaped his bun. "Hey!"

With a laugh, Draven pulled back. "You are my son," he said, the smile on his lips fading, "and never let anyone tell you differently. Be safe." Then without another word, he ran into the trees.

"You, too," Rhun muttered, watching him until he disappeared. Then he glanced at the rising moon, remembering his father's words. "I get you want me to stay out of the way. To protect me, or maybe so I don't compromise things. And I understand. Perfectly." He pulled out a baton, and pushed a small button, sharp blades bursting out of either side. "But I don't think I can do that. "

(Author's Note: And now we start to merge with Canon, yay!)


	4. Stormy Skies

Rhun wasn't a hundred percent sure about this plan of his, but it was the best he could come up with about now. Seeing the moon take its place in the sky like a silver medallion shining through the dark clouds filling the sky, he pulled up his hood as the tips of his hair lightened to white and the color gradually spread upward to the roots. Tomorrow night, the moon would be full, and everything would take a turn for the worse, and Rhun didn't have one clue if his involvement would make anything better. But there wasn't any harm in trying.

Otherwise, what was the point?

At least with his hair covered, he would seem relatively more trustworthy than he would without. He raced through the forest back to the village and burst through the door to his house to grab his satchel and stuff it with a few things. On his way out, he bumped into his stepmother Rosella, and was met by a raised eyebrow as she rested her hands on her hips.

"Hey..." Rhun greeted weakly, waving his hand.

"Nice try, but it's past curfew. What are you up to tonight?" she demanded, staring him down with her inquisitive stare that seemed to peer into his very soul.

"To be honest, I thought you weren't home yet."

"Oh, well, you thought wrong. Closed up early, now answer the question." When he made no movement to do so, she narrowed her eyes. "I might not be your mother, but while she's away at the Breach, it's my job to look after you. I promised her such the day we married." Her fiery red hair was still pinned up in a braided crown around her head, which after Rhun having seen her do it in the morning, looked painful. Then again, that may have been why she could seem in a constant state of irritation. "I'm not getting any younger."

With a heavy sigh, Rhun shouldered his bag and shook his head. "It's just...there's something important I need to do."

"If this is you sneaking around with that gypsy girl again-"

Despite himself, Rhun felt his cheeks warm. Still, he cut her off and corrected, "Tzipora prefers to be called Romani. And besides, she's my girlfriend, and has been for the past two years. I don't see the point sneaking around anymore since you and Mom found out."

"Not in a way I prefer, by the way, considering we had to catch you first," reminded Rosella. "Now then why exactly are you planning to run around at this hour?"

"Rose, come on, I turn twenty in a few months," Rhun scoffed with a shrug. "I can take care of myself, and as for this... This is just something I have to do."

"And what is that that's so important?"

"I don't have much time." Rhun made for the door as he pulled up his hood again. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

"Rhun." He stopped at her tone. It was the same tone she used whenever he was keeping something from her or when he'd done something wrong. When he looked at her over his shoulder, her penetrating stare demanded an answer. "Does this have anything to do with your father?"

He thought over that a moment. "Yes, and no. It's complicated." He opened the door, making sure to tuck back a few strands of hair.

"Well, that's different. I won't try to stop you if that's what you're doing as long as you keep safe, mostly because I could chain you to the fireplace and you'd still find a way," she sighed, shaking her head with a one corner of her lips lifting upward in a slight form of a fond smile. "Always trying to help someone, even if you don't know how. How is it Tzipora calls you, because I'm starting to think it might not be too far off?"

"A sweet fool."

"Sounds about right."

Despite himself, Rhun felt a small smile creep up on him. "I'll be back by morning."

"You better be. Be sure you're not doing anything crazy."

At that, he said nothing, closing the door behind him. "Everything's going to be fine. With the way things going, it's not like they can get any worse," he mumbled to himself. As a response, a booming clap of thunder rang in the air before the sky was alight with lightning, and seconds later, it was pouring, drenching him in seconds. He looked up at the sky in irritation. "Oh, come on! Now you're just rubbing it in my face!"

On the bright side, it made traveling through the village less of a hassle. Most of the villagers had dashed home to avoid getting wet. If there was anyone out, he didn't have to do much. He mostly kept to the shadows, waving to those he knew, and making sure nobody got too close to him to see anything off about him. It was a routine he'd grown used to over the years.

True, he had made a few friends through Tzipora's help, but he still mainly kept to himself, fearful of the consequences and reaction should anything slip. It didn't help much considering people still looked at him out the corner of their eye like they had for his whole life. Like they'd be scolded if anyone caught them staring.

When he was younger, he could even remember a few children his age who had known he was different, could feel it even if they couldn't see it. And they didn't like it. The memory of what they did to him was at the front of his mind whenever he had to be especially careful, his wrist still clicked funny whenever he twisted it.

When he made it to the castle, he stared at the guards ahead and kept a safe distance from them. After announcing himself to them, he shouted, "I have urgent news for King Harrow!"

"What kind of news?" one asked, not seeming inclined to let him in. Rhun couldn't blame him, in fact, he'd be more alarmed if he was; all soldiers of the King took their job with utter seriousness. Except maybe Soren, the youngest Crownguard to date, from Rhun saw of him once or twice when he came to him to repair a sword, but that was a different tale.

"Assassination." One word and one word only as his answer. One word that easily got their attention.

Within minutes, he being led to the throne room by the King's high mage, Lord Viren. Some halls Rhun recognized from the few times his mother had brought him along with her to the castle for meetings. Once they reached the throne room, Lord Viren opened the door, and strode in, a few steps ahead.

The doors slammed shut behind them, the sound reverberating through the room, and Rhun couldn't help flinching. Following Lord Viren's long strides, Rhun approached the throne at the end of the room. One was occupied by King Harrow, who sat dead still, his face stern but not unkind, while the other was empty, having once been occupied by the late Queen Sarai. Rhun remembered her, though had scarcely known her, having been thirteen when she passed. He did, however, remember her to be a kind woman, and a good and courageous queen. The first time he had met her, she had stared at his ears, for a moment, then smiled at him and went on as if she hadn't seen anything strange about him at all. It was something Rhun had never truly forgotten for some reason.

As per custom, he and Lord Viren stopped a few feet from the throne. Viren bowed and Rhun dropped to one knee, his head bowed.

"You may rise," King Harrow said in a low, rumbling voice. Too nervous to do much else, Rhun fiddled with his fingers as he stood perfectly still. He held his breath, waiting for someone to break the silence. Perhaps the King had noticed this, and that was why his voice had softened slightly as he spoke. "You are Captain Amadahy's son, aren't you? What was your name again?"

"Rhun, My King," he answered, lifting his face enough for him to see, but then he made a quick sweep over his wet hair and face to make sure nothing was peaking out his hood. "I've heard of an attempt on your life that will take place tomorrow night. And..." He hesitated, taking a deep breath, his fingers tapping against each other to calm his rapidly beating heart. "And they are coming after your son, as well, Prince Ezran."

Harrow's brows furrowed, and something flashed across his face. "How do you know this?"

Rhun's eyes glanced to Viren, his fidgeting worsening. It was no secret of his hatred for elves, not unlike most humans, but it was also no secret of his affinity for dark magic. Whether or not they believed his mother chose to have him and was not, as they probably believed, taken advantage of by his father, would not matter to most, but if what Amadahy had said about King Harrow was true, he could take a chance. Not with Viren, though, that one his mother had expressed her distrust openly. Once even in the mage's presence. "I can't say, but I do know you and your son are in danger," he answered, taking his eyes away.

His actions clearly had gone unnoticed yet again by the King. Harrow turned his gaze briefly to Viren. "Viren, you may leave."

"But-"

"There are guards outside the door, it is safe."

"Harrow, this boy can't be trusted if he speaks of an assassination attempt but won't tell of his source! Who's to say he isn't helping them?"

"If your presence makes him uncomfortable, that may be the reason he isn't telling us everything."

"What if-"

The King's face darkened. "Oh, I'm sorry, you must have thought it was a suggestion. Perhaps I should make myself more clear; it wasn't. It was an order. You will leave."

Lord Viren cast Rhun a distasteful look, before narrowing his eyes as he bowed to King Harrow. "As you wish, my King."

Rhun watched him go until the doors slammed shut once again. He took a moment to breathe, hoping for the best, before pulling down his hood. Tangled locks of silver-white hair spilled out from where his bun had come loose after the night's events, some plastered to his forehead as he still had yet to dry. If that wasn't enough of an answer, Rhun could feel the points of his ears sticking out from the mess when he swept the hair from his eyes. "You asked how I know of plans to assassinate you. This-" he pointed to himself-"is how I know. They are not regular assassins; the Moonshadow elves are coming for vengeance for the Dragon King's death. And they will have it." For a moment, everything was frozen. "I'm not in on it, but the person who told me of this plan is, I swear it."

Rhun watched the king's brief wide-eyed gaze to his face. Then it faded as the realization seemed to set in. "So...the rumors are true, then?" he finally asked, albeit sounding less like the regal king Rhun had always imagined him to be, more like the awkward man Amadahy had used to laughed about, and he wondered now if it was that old friendship that made the king feel obligated to listen.

"So they do talk about me, then?" Rhun shot back with a small smile. He bowed once again as if introducing himself for the second time, and in a way he was. In the sense, he was introducing the true him. "And those rumors are true. But I don't side with them. I cannot say I side with you, either, but Prince Ezran is innocent. He shouldn't die because of something _you_ have done." Despite his words, his tone held no animosity, only facts.

King Harrow was known to be a good man, but a king must also make tough decisions to do what's best for his kingdom, even if Rhun didn't agree with them, and he's sure the king had a good reason in his own mind for killing Thunder, if that was indeed his intention to _kill_ at all. Still, the king had made his bed, and now it was time to lie in it.

"Who, then, told you?" the king asked, his voice also void of animosity, but inquisitive. After all, there wasn't much reason_ not _to trust Rhun. His mother was a loyal, respected and trusted soldier of Katolis, captain of the Standing Battalion and one of many protecting their side of the Breach. And although Rhun wasn't quite as outspoken or confident as his mother was, everyone in the village had grown up knowing him to be quiet, polite, and one who spoke not a bad word to anyone, even if they deserved it.

"My father is among them." This was the only answer needed if the responsive silence was anything to go by. "They're after you, and that I can't help with. Maybe once they get their revenge, they'll leave things alone. It's unlikely, but it's all we can hope for, and I think I can help the princes escape unscathed."

King Harrow looked deep in thought before Rhun had spoken again, and he nodded. He had to admire the king at times. He had just told the man he was going to die by the next night, and he hadn't looked afraid for a moment until Rhun mentioned Prince Ezran was on their path as well. It showed how much he cared for his sons, and in that realization, he wondered how elves and humans thought themselves so different, when really, they were the same in all but appearance. "What do you propose?"

"Let me guard them on their way to whichever location you choose for them to keep safe. My father won't attack them if they're with me, mission or not. And I will protect them with my life like my mother would, and it might not be much but I know some magic," Rhun said, his eyes desperate. He understood there wasn't much he could do, but he had to do _something_. All life was important, and he was _not_ going to let an innocent one be taken for what his predecessors did. It wasn't fair. It wasn't _right_.

But assassins didn't care about right or wrong, only life and death.

Good thing Rhun wasn't, nor could ever be one.

* * *

(Author's Note: Personally, I don't like this chapter, or the way I wrote it, but I tried my best, and I still enjoyed writing it, although while examining some of the character's bios on Dragon Prince Wiki, I did find out Corvus is apparently about Rhun's age, and I'm shocked, because, Corvus is only twenty. That is so young, and so much younger than I thought he was, I mean, I thought he was at least in his mid to late twenties, but he's only a bit older than Soren. That just kind of blows my mind, because I mean- have you seen him in the show, I never would have thought he was that young with the way he acts. Gren, I can believe, actually, but Corvus? Also, I found out that both Sarai and Amaya are Asian, and Gren's official age is 24. Anyway, I'm not sure about this chapter, but I tried and I'll try to do the next one better, so here :))


	5. Midnight Talks

What was worth starting a continent-wide war over? Dark magic? Pride? Vengeance?

Rhun couldn't be sure he'd ever have an answer. He'd asked his parents that once. They all said they...weren't sure anymore, either. After all, in their youth while on opposite sides, his mother and father both once thought they had the answer for that question. They both had once been sure they were on the right side. To his mother, elves had been bloodthirsty monsters from stories, and to his father, humans were only a greedy distant enemy that truly threatened Xadia. Now neither could be positive of what they believed to this very day.

They were as close now as they were then, albeit their bond more platonic than romantic, and they still butted heads over the subject of the problem's true nature on the occasion Draven sought Amadahy's advice. Eventually they both had come to the agreement that their lands were at an impasse. Xadia wouldn't budge so much of an inch so long as humans used dark magic, and humanity wouldn't either so long as Xadia kept them out of what they believed to be their rightful place and ancestral lands. Both Xadia and the human kingdoms were to blame for this ongoing circle they were stuck in. And neither were willing to compromise in order to break it.

And now here they all were. Just _perfect_.

Rhun sat ten feet off the ground on a sturdy branch, staring out at the land of Katolis that he could see. In the distance, snowy mountains and forested valleys stretch out as far as he can see, here and there dotted by human villages. And beyond those mountains, near invisible in the darkness, was the volcano that was the border to Xadia and the home of the dragons. Above them, the clouds still kept the moon's silver light from shining over the land, even thought the rain had stopped pouring, leaving only the occasional drizzle.

It was a good place to think. Especially after discussing the details of his plan with King Harrow. He breathed in deeply, savoring the cool fresh air and the feel of moon magic swirling around him, no matter how weak as it was a few hours till sunrise. He had almost forgotten how much he liked being awake at night.

"If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing up there?"

Still captivated by the night, Rhun was jerked from his thoughts at the sound of a voice with a familiar musical lilt. He looked down from his spot to see a bright blue hood over a lovely dark face and dark curls. Tzipora placed her hands on the trunk of the tree he sat on. "You're not stuck, are you?" she teased.

Despite himself, despite all that's happened recently, Rhun laughed in response. His problems were still at the front of his mind, but with her here, they seemed less world-ending. "Just thinking," he chuckled.

"Aren't you worried you're gonna fall?" she asked, this time with slightly more serious concern. The tree itself sat on the edge of a cliff, Rhun's legs dangling over empty air.

"I don't fall, " Rhun said simply, with so much conviction that she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

Instead she sighed and shook her head. "Then what are you thinking about? Must be pretty big if you're up there for a thinking spot," she called up. She'd known him to appear in high places to think, whether it be his rooftop, a tree, anywhere he could climb, but this still seemed ridiculously risky.

"Yeah..."

"Mind if I join you, then?" Without waiting for an answer, she lifted herself up onto any foothold she could find. Considering she was less a stranger to the outdoors than he was, she edged her way up the trunk faster than he had and was beside him in a few minutes. Rhun extended a hand to help her up onto the branch he sat upon, and she took it, heaving herself up. Once she was on, though, she opted to stay closer to the trunk just in case, trying not to look down; doing so made her head spin. "How are you never afraid of falling from this high up?" she has to ask. "I mean, it's just one slip, a misstep or even a strong wind and then there's nothing to catch you."

"Didn't know you were scared of heights."

"I'm not scared," she protested, cheeks reddening slightly. "I just like to stay away from falls that could kill or maim me."

"Like I said, I don't fall," he shrugged, then turned to look at her. "Besides, if you fall, I'd be here to catch you."

"Very reassuring."

As they stared out into the distant and the silence stretched on for a few more moments, Tzipora subconsciously relaxed, momentarily forgetting her fear. Then Rhun shifted, drawing one knee under his chin and letting his other leg hang from the branch and she scooted back to the trunk, gripping a neighboring branch.

"So what's wrong?" she asked softly, seeing his brow furrowed in thought.

"Nothing. Everything," he breathed out. "It's all gonna fall apart, Zip. And what's it all worth anyway? What does any of us fight for that's worth war, death, or destruction?"

For a long moment, Tzipora didn't answer; she didn't know how. She's not even sure if Rhun's expecting one. "I don't know," she replied anyway before going silent again. Then, "When I was little, my mother was in...I guess the best way to describe it would be a cult. I think she said once that humanity just loves destruction, taking and breaking things apart. That it's human nature, and that it was what her 'Dark Lord' represented. I asked her if that meant He represented evil." She paused and took a deep breath. As long as he'd known her, she'd never so much as mentioned either her mother or father. "She told me it didn't. It meant he represented free will.

"Everyone is given strict guidelines on how they're supposed to act, what's good and what's bad, right and wrong, but take them away," she continued, "and you know, it basically all comes down to that person, and there are even some who grow up with those and still come up with a way to twist them to their own agenda. So, if you're asking what drives a person to commit things like that, I think you'd have to answer the question of whether we're born evil and taught to be good, or if we're born good and taught to be evil. Either way, it's not just one thing or the other."

Rhun's ears swivel to the sound of her voice, but he kept himself still. His eyes were distant and he didn't reply for a long while. Then, "So I guess it's nothing, and yet...everything." He snorted out a laugh, though it sounds sad and bitter even when he tries to joke. Tzipora's expression saddens at it. "I don't even know what or who I fight for. Never have, and still don't."

Tzipora took a deep breath, let go of the branch and cautiously scooted over to him before taking his face in her hands and turning him to look at her. When he does, suddenly she's struck by how human yet foreign he seemed. She's reminded of their first meeting, when they had met each other's eyes, how strange he appeared, although she couldn't quite put her finger on what was off about him. Yet despite the rumors of the source that resulted in those differences, he looked, moved, talked and felt just like she did while managing to exude an otherworldly grace, and that didn't make him much different than her or anyone else.

She'd gotten used to his lavender eyes, the slight lilac undertone to his copper skin that she could see best under moonlight, his strange birthmarks and four-fingered left hand, to the way he walked, nervous, uncertain and constantly taut, ready to spring forward or run at any given moment. Now his eyes seemed almost to glow in the dark like a cat's, and beneath his hood, his auburn hair was silvery and bright. His birthmarks seemed sharper, like dark shadows across his face. The way his body is curled around his leg, lean muscled arms under his knee and hands on his shoulders. Everything about him suddenly screamed there was something inhuman about him.

She was used to ignoring the rumors about his birth. And even before he told her the truth once in a whisper, with tears in his eyes afraid she'd run or that she'd hate him, she had always suspected they were true.

Yet unlike their first meeting, Tzipora isn't scared by them. She sees the similarities and the differences and takes comfort in all of them, because although there were tales and stories about elves and how he has them in his blood, Rhun himself is a good person, dedicated to doing the right thing, whatever he thought that might be.

"You fight for the people you care about and you fight for the right thing," she told him, gently placing a chaste kiss on his nose. As she released his face, she pulled down his hood to play with his bright, pearl hair as she turned her gaze back to the horizon. "And I know that because you're still the same boy who gave money to a thief because you believed she needed it more than you did, where others would have turned simply turned her in." Noticing it loose instead of in its usual bun, Tzipora began braiding Rhun's hair with deft, steady fingers, weaving the strands together to keep them out of his eyes. "I swear you're like Rapunzel," she joked lightly while she worked. "Have you always worn your hair this messy or do you curl your pretty hair for special occasions?"

"Says Goldilocks. You're just jealous because I've got prettier hair than you do," he shot back with a laugh, getting a light tug in response. As he looked at her, he remembered what he'd been thinking of earlier. Even in appearances, elves and humans weren't so different. They were the same, like he and Tzipora were.

They were the same.

"All jokes aside, trust me, what you fight for...you're looking for the answer out there, but maybe you should try looking in here," Tzipora went on, tapping his chest over where his heart laid. "And maybe you'll find what you're looking for."

As he stared back at her, he found himself caught in the dark pools of her eyes that crinkled slightly at the edges when she smiled at him. Although she was the only girl he was able to get close enough to see them, to let her get close enough for him to see them, he had always found himself enchanted by her eyes. So dark he'd felt the solid earth and warm sun in his chest when she kissed him, steady and nurturing. In the sunlight or campfire, they seemed aglow with color reflecting off them like a kaleidoscope.

Still, he tore himself away, having to focus on the matter at hand for when the moon would rise again, full and when the Moonshadow elves at their strongest. Maybe even before since if they knew their element of surprise was lost, they could strike at an earlier time when they weren't expected. Rhun needed to get the princes out of the castle before sunset and as soon as their bags were packed. King Harrow had talked of taking the boys to a place called the Banther Lodge, where they would be safe, or at least for the time being if the assassins didn't search for Prince Ezran once the king was dead.

He couldn't explain everything, because then Tzipora would want to come with him, and once she set her mind to something, no matter what he did, she would still find a way to do it. And if she ended up hurt in the crossfire, he didn't know if he could forgive himself. He did, however, tell her part of it, enough so that she wouldn't worry about him and still relatively knew what was going on.

_"The moon is fortunate," Rhun could remember saying to the king before leaving. It was half of an old Moonshadow elf proverb his father had recited more than once - 'The moon is fortunate, to leave and return.' It was also a common parting between some, a way of skirting around saying goodbye. For Rhun, it was to wish King Harrow luck with his fate as he spoke. "And I pray so are you."_

And hopefully, so was he. Half an hour ago, Rhun had felt sick to his gut with problems he didn't know how to solve and questions he didn't know how to answer. He still didn't, of course, and he'd have to resolve them somehow. And soon. But they were suddenly a lot easier to ignore for tonight knowing he at least wasn't alone as he entwined his fingers with Tzipora's.


	6. Babysitting or Assassination?

In the morning, Rhun told Rosella a partial lie and a partial truth. He told her Draven had told him it was dangerous to stay nearby and to head to another village (true). He also told her he was going to said village (lie). And not to worry because he didn't want her to get involved (true), and he had everything figured out (_huge_ lie).

When he had finally set out for the castle, his bag was packed with supplies for himself and additional ones for the boys in case they would take longer to reach the lodge or they were intercepted and had to go another way. Several Crownguards were on duty, more than the usual amount. One of the guards offered to lead him to the throne room, but Rhun insisted he could find it on his own.

As he walked through the courtyard, he spotted something of interest. A step-prince, a Crownguard, and a mage. Rhun stopped, seeing Prince Callum using wooden swords to spar with Soren, or at least trying. Goofy as he was, Soren became the youngest Crownguard in the kingdom's history for a reason. His sister Claudia sat on a bench beneath an oak tree, reading a book. Compared to Lord Viren, she was the least-threatening thing Rhun had set eyes on for a dark mage, but he still reminded himself to be wary. A dark mage was a dark mage, no matter appearances. Though Rhun kept his eyes on them, they had yet to notice him. He was still watching the boys exchange blows until Prince Callum ran his wooden sword under Soren's arm and he fell to the ground dramatically.

Soren was still on the ground, giving a _very_ dramatic performance—Rhun was too far away to hear exactly what he was saying, but he rolled his eyes anyway. Tentatively, he made his way over, unsure his presence would be welcomed, but figured it was worth a shot. After all, he didn't want Prince Callum or Ezran to be going off on an uncertain journey with a complete stranger. He wouldn't exactly respond well to that if he were in their position, especially once they found out the reason why. Besides, he wanted to at least introduce himself since in all the times he'd seen the boys, he didn't think he'd ever told either of them his name.

"This is what you do in your free time?" Rhun asked, looking down at Soren with a raised eyebrow. Callum hadn't heard him coming, but he certainly hear heard him speak from behind him, and jumped back a few feet. When Soren caught his shadow leaning over him, he looked up to see Rhun silhouetted in the sun. "You wouldn't think with the amount of times I've had to fix one of your swords or your armor."

Squinting to see who it was speaking, Soren's eyes widened slightly in surprise before taking the hand extended to him as Rhun helped him to his feet. Almost instantly, Rhun retreated from his touch, keeping his hands under his arms awkwardly. That Soren wasn't surprised at, it wasn't exactly a secret physical contact or closeness of almost any kind made the older boy uncomfortable unless he knew the person well. "Oh, I almost didn't recognize you out of the smithy," he finally said. "Why are you-"

"Because," Rhun shrugged, flashing him a warning look not to ask anything else on the topic. Rhun wasn't like his parents; he couldn't make up good lies on the spot. If he made him say it out loud without time to think up one, the prince might realize what was happening. The boy was almost fifteen after all, he wasn't an idiot; too many clues might lead him to figuring things out before his stepfather could discuss them with him. "The king called upon me," he answered instead.

Not technically a lie, but not technically the _whole_ truth either.

With that, Rhun turned to Callum and bowed respectfully, ignoring the young prince's stammering, "Um, don't...you don't have to bow."

"Royalty is still royalty," Rhun retorted as he stood back up, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The young 'step-prince' as Soren called him, had always had a habit of staring, whether it was the rumors King Harrow had mentioned that were even among the court or because of the blatant differences everyone seemed to pick up about him. Sometimes he wondered the only reason none of the adults had ever accused him of anything was due to the pity they felt for Amadahy, probably thinking her relationship with his father was anything but consensual. Worked to his advantage, but given the chance, Rhun would deny it. "King's stepson, or not." Before he could say anything else, he caught one of King Harrow's advisers, one of many on the High Council, coming toward them, and quickly excused himself. "I have to go and speak with the king, but we'll meet again soon and exchange proper introductions."

"Well, I—"

"Trust me, Prince Callum, you will," he smiled. "In fact, we'll be seeing a lot of each other for a while." With that, he was off, although he had a feeling by soon, he meant a few minutes.

Driven by duty and his new responsibility to protect the princes against the oncoming threat, Rhun made his way to the throne room, trying to remember which hallways were which in such a large place with many twists and turns. He tried to avoid any that looked particular sinister or dark since those didn't really scream safe. On the bright side, he found a few portraits of the royal family that caught his attention.

Of course they were painted a long time ago, but they brought a smile to Rhun's face nonetheless, to see Queen Sarai standing besides a young Callum—he looked to be about five or four— King Harrow by her side and Prince Ezran—hardly more than a baby—held in his arms. It was just them together and genuinely happy as a family, in turn then saddening Rhun to know these boys had lost their mother and in a few more hours may lose their father as well. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost his parents. Though absent often, they had always been involved in his life and loved him as much as he loved them; Rhun knew every time they left they would still be there and would come back, but the thought of knowing for certain they were gone and never would return...it would crush him.

At the same time, it would eat at him more to not know. To never know what was happening or if they were even alive. To never have some sense of closure, so he wouldn't spend the rest of his life hoping to see them again only to have it dwindle more the longer time went on.

Silently, he made a promise to explain everything to the princes when they were a good distant away. He just couldn't lie to them everything was fine when it wasn't, not for long anyway. And once the threat had passed, they would return, and he would stay to serve his new king and keep him safe from the snakes in the court that might try to manipulate Prince Ezran like a puppet on a string. What his father had said on that topic left a bad taste in Rhun's mouth. Manipulating a _child_, to get what they wanted, it didn't feel right. At Prince Ezran's age, children were easy to sway to persuasion, and they would likely use him to further worsen the war.

If and when this was over, Rhun would try to keep that from happening. It wasn't right in his own mind, but that was politics. He hated them, but he supposed in such, people made choices that they believed to be best for the majority.

In the meantime, he sighed and moved on to continue his search. Given the threat of Moonshadow elves, he would have to be vigilant, whether it would be his father who came for the boys or not. He swore to King Harrow that he would fight to protect the princes to the best of his ability from any threat. And if there was something his mother had taught him that stuck, it was that one never breaks an oath.

By the time he made it to the throne room, he began to regret declining the guard's directions, as the princes were already at King Harrow's side. Whatever the king had been saying was interrupted the moment he set eyes on him, Rhun beginning to bow before the king quickly stopped him. "And I believe you know Rhun. Captain Amadahy's talked of him quite a bit, and I'm sure you boys have been to his stepmother's shop before; I hear she makes some of the best jelly tarts," he went on suddenly, as if looking for any distraction. Probably trying to avoid telling his sons he might die tonight, or the reason behind their sudden journey, period.

When Ezran looked over at him, he gave a broad smile and waved. Shyly, Rhun waved back with a small smile of his own. "See? We meet again," he chuckled as he caught Prince Callum's eye.

"Anyway, boys, Rhun here is going to take you on a little trip to the Banther Lodge, isn't that right?" King Harrow exclaimed.

"Yes, my king."

Callum frowned. "The Banther Lodge? But that's the winter lodge."

"And?" Rhun prompted innocently.

"It's _summer_."

"Well, winter is coming...eventually," King Harrow tried, clasping his hands behind his back.

"What will we do? Everything fun there has to do with snow or ice?" Ezran asked, wearing a similar expression to Callum.

"I'm sure you can find something. There are just as many interesting things about a place no matter the season," said Rhun, looking to the king for help.

"That's right. You can invent new versions, using dirt and rocks. You can build a dirt man! Or what about mud sledding? That could be a thing!" Harrow sighed as he took in faces of the three in front of him, his sons unconvinced, Rhun's unimpressed. "Look, this is something I need you to do, and it's already been decided."

"And what about him?" Callum demanded, gesturing to Rhun. "Is he our bodyguard now, or something?"

"Yes," replied Harrow without hesitation. "And if his mother's reputation is anything to go by, you won't be able to give him the slip like you have your others. On that note, please don't. Try not to give him a rough time."

"Dad," Ezran pleaded.

"It's been decided," Harrow repeated. "You leave before sundown, so get packed."

"I'll help," Rhun supplied, nodding his head. "Sundown may be the deadline, but I'd prefer if we left as soon as soon as you're both ready."

With that, it clearly signaled the end of the discussion. The king glanced to Rhun for assistance, and he nodded once to show his understanding before calmly ushering the boys towards the door so as not to tip them off that anything was wrong. They were already suspicious, but he'd rather have that conversation out of danger. Just as the doors closed completely, he turned around only to be met by sight of both princes staring at him with a million questions on their faces.

"Why's he sending us away?" Ezran asked first.

"Well...um," Rhun stammered out, then took a deep breath and stood up straight, refusing to let the uncertainty show on his face. He plastered on a small smile. "It's just for a little trip. His Majesty thinks you could use a small break away from the castle."

Callum chews on his bottom lip, thinking something over, and Rhun worried he was beginning to piece it together. So, interrupting his train of thought, he clapped his hands and said, "Might as well enjoy it, right? Things have been a bit...rocky, so it might be the last for a while." Technically not a lie, right?

As promised, the boys led Rhun to their rooms to help them pack their bags for this "little trip," Rhun doing his best to appear casual while keeping his guard up. Before taking up the throne, his father had been an assassin for a reason. Moonshadow elves were trained to be calculating, deadly, and a hardened bunch. How else would they be able to do what they did? Once or if they realized their cover was blown, they might forgo using the moon to their advantage to retain the element of surprise with an attack in broad daylight.

Thankfully, Ezran remained blissfully ignorant of any danger as he clutched his pet glow toad in his arms whose name was apparently Bait, or so he picked up, the crown prince going on and on about Bait, his love of jelly tarts (not that Rhun needed telling), and stories that seemed to be a touch exaggerated in some aspects, occasionally pausing to ask Rhun things about himself before continuing to talk about how much he hoped they would become good friends. Callum, however, seemed more anxious, and kept sparing Rhun glances out the corner of his eye.

Finally, once they reached the courtyard, Rhun paused, and let Ezran run on ahead while still making sure to keep him within his line of sight, then turned to Callum.

"Alright, what is it, Prince Callum?"

"You don't have to call me prince," he immediately corrected, but then sighed. "If you're trying to spare Ezran's feelings, that's fine, but tell me the truth. What's really going on?"

"It's complicated, and that's all I can really say on it."

"But you just came here out of the blue to take me and Ezran—"

"Ezran and I," Rhun couldn't help correcting automatically.

"Whatever! Anyway, you're here suddenly to take us on a trip to the _winter_ lodge in the middle of _summer _and trading secret looks with our dad, and telling us everything's okay. Usually, whenever someone insist something's okay, it's not okay!"

"Everything _is_ okay," Rhun insisted with a pasted-on smile. "Just relax. The king just thought you might like a nice getaway. After all, you are almost fifteen, so maybe this is an early birthday present." At his unconvinced frown, Rhun relented. "Fine, there...is something wrong, but I'll tell you _later," _he huffed. "Now is not the best time to be wasting seconds."

Just as he began to think he'd deflected Callum's questions for now, they passed beneath an open window, right when someone's voice drifted out, practically announcing, "You're saying they'll kill the king?"

Caught off guard, Rhun gazed up to see none other than Lord Viren appear in the frame in front of Soren. For a long moment, he held Viren's gaze. With a withering look, he then slammed the window shut. Turning to Callum's wide green eyes, he knew he'd heard every word.

"You were saying?" he demanded, those wide eyes now narrowed.

"Callum, I need you to understand something." Rhun kept his voice low, though Callum was doing the exact opposite.

"What's there to understand? Assassins are coming to kill the king, aren't they, and you came to get us as far away as possible so we're not here when it happens. Why?"

"_Because_ your stepfather cares about you and _because_ I volunteered _because_ I was one of the first to know about it."

"That's what you meant when you said you'd tell me later? You were going to tell me after he was dead," he snapped.

Taking a deep breath, Rhun pinched the bridge of his nose. "We can talk about this later, because that's not the complete reason, Callum. They're also coming to—"

"You know what? Nevermind," the step-prince huffed, "I have to go. Just go look after Ezran."

"Callum, we do not have time for this, believe me..."

"You're losing Ezran."

"You—" Rhun turned to catch Ezran disappearing around a corner. Giving in with a loud sigh, he turned to run after him. "This conversation is far from over." he called over his shoulder, hoping Callum wouldn't do anything reckless with this new knowledge.

Sure, his responsibility was to protect both of them, but Ezran was the one in more danger and the one completely oblivious to that same danger unlike Callum, the younger of the two who wouldn't be able to defend himself. He was also the Crown Prince, the more important of them both who would need to inherit the throne once the assassins had finished their job with King Harrow. It was a cruel way of thinking, realizing that if he had to choose between the two, he'd choose Prince Ezran because child or not, he was still Katolis's future.

Rhun could only hope Prince Callum wouldn't do anything too stupid. Then again, when Rhun's father told him the news, he ended up doing something stupid, too; he volunteered to babysit two kids who already seemed to be giving him a headache—not Ezran of course, Ezran was a sweetie. But Rhun had to pray this wandering off thing wouldn't become a habit.

Callum was older, but teenagers were known to do rash things without properly thinking them through, too young to tell the recklessness of their actions. Children, on the other hand, while pleasant, were small, naive, innocence, which could also be a liability. Not to mention, they could_ not_ stay still for more than a few minutes at a time.

Babysitting or elven assassins? Which were more stressful?

Either way, guess he'd just have to stay on his toes.

* * *

(Author's Note: As someone who has babysat before/helped babysat before, it can definitely be as if not more stressful. Anyway, new chapter! Hope you like it!)


	7. Secret Passages

By the time, Rhun had caught up to Ezran he was still talking away with a story about his tenth birthday and all his adventures since, his absence clearly gone unnoticed. Rhun let out a quiet breath of relief. So Ezran hadn't heard of the attempt to be made on his father's life.

That didn't mean Rhun could avoid that topic, but it did mean he could put it off for another time.

As they approached the room Ezran shared with his older brother, Rhun went ahead to scan the area for someone or something lurking in the shadows. Laughing, Ezran came bursting in with Bait tucked under his arm, but Rhun's eyes continued to search the room for the slightest thing out of place or unusual even once he decided the coast was clear. Casually, he kept one hand near his weapons hidden in his vest before helping Ezran get ready. Excitedly, the young boy began to tear through his room, pulling clothes and toys from dressers and drawers then leaving them discarded on the floor without another thought.

Giving a soft chuckle of his own at the prince's antics, Rhun picked up some of the clothes and folded nearly, placing them in a small backpack on Ezran's bed. "You're supposed to be packing, not making a mess," he reminded him in a light tone.

"Sorry." In an instant, he took the bag from him and began stuffing it with some treats that looked suspiciously like jelly tarts. Then he held one up. "Want some?"

"No thanks," he said, looking down as Ezran's large blue eyes were still alight with excitement when they met. He paused for a moment and turned his head to the side.

"What are those on your face?" Ezran asked, pointing to his own face in the spots of Rhun's marks. "Are they tattoos?"

"Oh...those." Rhun self-consciously touched his face. Taking a moment to think of an answer, he finally decided there was no harm in the truth. Or at least parts of it. "No, they're not tattoos. They're birthmarks."

"Hmm. Well, they look cool."

That he didn't know how to respond to. "...Thanks? You'd be one of the first to say so. Most people think it looks weird. That I look weird. But, you know, there's nothing wrong with that. Everyone's a little weird."

"You don't look_ that_ weird. What's that?" Ezran asked, pointing to Rhun's neck where a small moonstone hung from a leather cord.

Rhun thought a moment before crouching down on his knees to be eye level with the prince, and leaned forward, loudly whispering, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Uh, not really. Could you tell me anyway? Please, please, please! I promise I'll_ try_ not to tell anyone, really!"

"Okay, okay, but only because you're the future king," Rhun chuckled. He took a deep breath and lifted the stone, fingers touching the smooth, cool surface. "This is a moon pendant. Do you know what those are?" At Ezran's shake of the head, he elaborated. "Well, among the primal sources, the moon is one of them. Moon magic draws on the the spiritual energy of the moon to create illusions and connect with spirits. Sometimes, those spells can be placed into certain items so they are at your disposal should you need them. This is one of those." Of course, he didn't tell Ezran the reason he needed it or why he wouldn't take it off.

"Are you a mage, then?"

"No, no, I wouldn't say I'm a mage. My dad's wife is, though, so I learned a few spells from her, and I learned how to use them."

"Is that why Dad wants you to protect us? Because you know magic?" Ezran asked, unusually perceptive for someone so young.

"It's a bit more complicated than that, but that's part of it."

"There's something more, though, isn't there?"

"Tell you what," Rhun said, clapping his hands as he stood back up. "I can't tell you. But...why don't we make it a game? If you can figure it out, I'll tell you." He gave another rare smile, flashing bright teeth and slightly sharper canines than your average human. "You can ask questions, you can make guesses, and I'll let you know if you're getting warmer or colder."

"That does sound like fun...okay! We can do it on our way to the Banther Lodge, too!" Ezran smiled widely, eyes twinkling, and there was a surge of guilt lying to him. But it wasn't lying if Ezran hadn't asked any direct questions, no, he was just...keeping what he knew to himself. That wasn't lying, right?

"That's right! And we're going to have a fun time there, I promise? Besides this one, we can play plenty of games over there; we don't need the snow to have fun. "O

"Great! Can we play one right now? Have you played hide and seek? "

Rhun, in fact, had not. Well, he had, but there weren't that many fond memories of it. Whenever anyone had played with him, they'd have him hide and then go off to play on their own while he waited for them to find him well after dark. He knew how the rules worked, though. "I don't think that's a good idea, Prince Ezran," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, still in its plait from Tzipora's grooming. "We really do have to go. Before the sun sets should be nice."

"Why?"

"It's easier to see the trail. As soon as Callum gets here and grabs his things, we should head out right away."

"Just one game, please! We can take turns," pleaded Ezran. "Bait will take his first, you'll get yours next, and then I'll have a turn. Then when Callum comes back, we can leave for the trip."

Letting out a long sigh, Rhun relented. "Alright. _One_ game. But first, let's set some ground rules," he ordered. "You are only allowed to hide in this room, nowhere else. Got it?"

"Deal. Bait and I will go hide first."

Right as Rhun opened his mouth to protest, Ezran and Bait were already scurrying off to a hiding place. Glancing anxiously out the window to see the sun beginning its descent toward the horizon, Rhun found himself chewing on his thumbnail. A nervous tick he thought he'd outgrown by now. Even if they made it out the castle before sunset, they still needed to get through the woods and to the Banther Lodge before nightfall. Hide-and-seek thankfully passed by quickly. Rhun found Ezran easily but had declined his own turn to get the game over with and finish packing. Bait was a trickier one, but he eventually began to glow underneath a nearby blanket.

"Oh, Bait, you're terrible at hide and seek," Ezran giggled as held his pet. Yet the instant the game was done, Rhun started to usher Ezran back to his room.

"Well, that was fun, now let's go, go, go," he urged almost frantically, glancing back at the window then back to him. "Hurry up and finish packing. We've got to go _now._ If your brother's not here in five minutes, I guess I'll just have to pack for him, but we have_ got_ to leave!"

"What's with the—"

The door burst open and Rhun automatically tensed, positioning himself to shield Ezran from view but let out a breath of relief when he found only Callum. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Just get ready. We're leaving_ now_, so just grab whatever you need, some clothes, or whatever, but we have to _go_," Rhun ordered sternly.

"Callum, do you want a—"

"No, I do not want a stupid jelly tart!" Callum exploded, whirling around to glare daggers at them. "Have you just been playing this whole time?"

"Well, where exactly were _you_ this whole time?" Rhun questioned in a hard tone, folding his arms over his chest as he regarded the step-prince with narrowed eyes. "There isn't time to waste having a tantrum. You want to get angry, be angry when we're _outside_, away, _safe_." He added this in a hiss to keep Ezran from picking it up. "So relax, you can pack together."

"Tantrum?! I _am_ trying to get ready, not having a tantrum!" Callum shouts as he shoved clothes into a bag, crying out and yanking his hand back in disgust when his hand came back with jelly tart jam all over it. "_Ezran_!"

"You should have seen the look on your face right now!" his younger brother laughed.

"You don't get it, do you?! Why do you think they're sending us away?"

"Callum, I think you need to calm down. Don't say something you'll regret."

"Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down?" Callum continued despite Rhun's warning. "They're sending us away because they are coming to kill him! And our new 'bodyguard' is here to keep us from dying, too!"

"Callum!"

But the damage was already done. Ezran stared at Callum with wide, frightened eyes before turning to Rhun as if begging him to say it wasn't true. But there was nothing in that moment Rhun could say or do to turn any of it on its head or make it better. Tears building in his eyes, Ezran seemed to take his silence for conformation, and ran into his room, slamming the door behind him. Bait hopped through the froggy-door to follow him, not before stopping to shoot Callum a glare. Or maybe he just always looked like that.

With Ezran and Bait now locked in their room, Rhun's regretful expression became furious as he turned on Callum, knowing the step-prince had not only upset his brother but had made his own job harder. "What," he growled, doing his very best to keep his temper in check, "possessed you to think it was a good idea to _yell_ at a _ten-year-old_ that his father is going to be _killed_? I get that this is a stressful time for everyone, but taking it out on your brother does _not_ solve anything."

"I—I'm sorry I wasn't thinking," Callum stammered out, wincing under Rhun's glower.

"Apologize to him, not to me. We need to go, but first, you need to _apologize_." He pointed to the doors, pausing to take a deep breath to collect himself.

"Alright, alright." Callum made his way to Ezran's door and knocked gently. Mumbling incoherently about teenagers, Rhun left the room to give the boys their space.

A few minutes later, Callum came walking out only to be intercepted. "Now where are you going?" he demanded in exasperation. God, he sounded like Rosella, he realized in frustration.

"I'm just heading to the library to grab some books."

"_Callum_."

"I know there's not much time, but it'll only take a few minutes, and then I'll be back," he insisted before running off.

Rhun groaned softly. Still, he went back inside the room and knocked on Ezran's shut door. "I apologize Prince Ezran, but can we talk?" He wasn't sure what he could say. There was no way to make him feel better, but it might help for him to know he wasn't completely alone on this front; he too feared his father's fate of tonight, but he had to hope for the best.

With a sigh, Rhun opened the door slowly because while he had to be gentle, there wasn't much time to waste. The more time they spent, the more they were at risk. Yet once the door was fully open and Rhun's eyes searched the room, then they widened in alarm.

Ezran was gone.

"Damn," he mumbled, looking around frantically. How far could a ten-year-old go? Especially since there really weren't any other exits beside the door...and the window. As soon as the thought entered his mind, Rhun checked the window, breathing a sigh of relief there wasn't any evidence the boy had_ climbe_d out, nor should he from this height. A moment passed while he tried to slow his breathing and stop his erratic mind from racing.

A level, clear head helps best in a stressful situation, his father once said.

So Rhun breathed, relaxing a bit with each inhale and exhale until after one last exhale, he opened his eyes and searched the room again. Ezran had to be somewhere. There was no other way out beside the door and window, and Ezran didn't really seem the type to climb up walls. Unless... Well, a child Ezran's age would get bored easily whenever his brother was having lessons, and whenever children were left alone, they were bound to get curious. Even over things they were too young to know to be cautious about.

And maybe there was more to the castle than one might think... Weren't there passages in the walls of a castle, especially one as big as this? There had to be; it was sensible. In case of invasion, servants and such needing to get around without disturbing the royal family or guests, a shortcut to getting around such a large place, or when someone building it had needed a secret place only they knew of.

Maybe they branched out around here, too. Instantly, Rhun began to scour the walls for anything out of place when something caught his eye. An orange mark in the shape of a small handprint on one of the many stones in the wall. Gently prodding at the substance, Rhun put his finger in his mouth and tasted persimmon. "Jelly tarts," he chuckled to himself. And where there were jelly tarts, there was Prince Ezran.

Pressing down in the stone, he found it sink down slightly into the stone before the wall rumbled and opened to reveal a hallway dimly lit with the occasional glow along the walls. Cautiously, Rhun took a step forward into the hallway, then another, and another, feeling with one hand along the walls as he went on into the darkness.

It occurred to him when he heard the entrance close behind him that Ezran probably knew these passages better than he did.

Oh, well. All he had to look for was a glow-in-the-dark toad the prince never went anywhere without.

* * *

(Author's Note: Is it bad that after reading a comment on a Dragon Prince Wiki page on its magic that I now kind of want to see someone in the next season, or maybe a whole group, who prefer to use science rather than magic, and it's actually a good defense against it than everyone else thinks. What would be even cooler would be if it was a group of outcast elves and humans who were rejected from their own factions for their radical thinking who join forces with the main characters to help stop both powers from fighting a meaningless "Magic War," and— my gosh, I'm rambling, so I'm going to stop myself now. Until next time! 😊)


	8. Moon and Stars

(Author's Note: I mentioned in one of the previous chapters that Rhun had a elf half-sister so I decided in this chapter to sort of elaborate on that...mainly because once I made her up, I needed to use her. So anyway, hope you like this chapter! 😉)

* * *

Theodosia was bored, restless even. From her window, she watched the sun sink lower in the sky as it gradually darkened, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the moon rose. And then her father would set with his group on the mission to take King Harrow's head.

But why was everyone set on letting her help? She was a princess, for heaven's sake, daughter of King Draven of the Moonshadow elves. Daughter of a Moonshadow assassin king and a Startouch Archmage. Theodosia was supposed to lead her people if something happened to her father, but how could she if none seemed believed in her? True, she may not be like her father, and she might not quite have the regal poise or magical abilities of her mother, but she was well on her way to become a mage like she, and could prove herself if they would just_ let_ her.

Moonshadow elves, though, weren't precisely the _friendly _type_; _there were the few odd ones but most were a cold, hardened bunch, changed by the humans' destruction of everything that mattered to them. Not many Moonshadow elves chose to be soldiers like Sunfire elves; most, however, chose the profession that was most suited to their talents: stealth, discretion, their strong sense of justice. An eye for an eye. A life for a life.

And maybe that was why there are those that thought her weak for being how she was. Theodosia was meant to be perfect, and many took it to heart. To be a perfect Moonshadow elf, you had to master the art of illusions. Show no fear. Emotion is weakness. She wishes so, so, badly to be perfect, but she couldn't cover herself up in layers and let the illusion set her features like her father had: calm, cold, threatening. _The Moon is not warm_, he told once, so why should he, a perfect Moonshadow elf, appear so?

She herself has not mastered that same art, not even remotely. She could produce them, weave spells for them, but use it for herself, no. She was an open book. Her expressions and body language gave away how she felt in an instant. She wasn't able to seal her heart in layers and create an illusion that she felt nothing. Emotions fueled her actions in a way her mother described as recklessness, they fueled every spell and incantation she weaved, which impacted her magic in ways that were both better and worse depending but were labeled the latter constantly for using emotions within her magic at all.

There was nothing wrong with it, she'd argue each time. By using her heart rather than just her head for spells, she found her magic intensified from its usual standards; without, they all felt flat and not quite as effective. She was chastised for letting them influence her decisions rather than duty or with the majority in mind rather than the minority. The same went for any time, really, when she did things the right way, even better sometimes, just not how everyone else would or had done it. But what was so wrong with doing things _her_ way if it produced about the same and just as effective results, simply because it went slightly against tradition? Sometimes she wonders if the price for perfection was too high or if she can pay it at all.

Theodosia knows better than most about illusions as she studies the magic of them, and how they can interchange with reality. Her father's face and heart appeared cold when he looked at her, and she seemed unable to accomplish anything _their_ way but let him down. Below the layers, though, he's wondering if the crown's burden is too large a burden his daughter to pay for if she can hardly master the illusion of perfection- but he covers the worrying up in illusions of disappointment before others, and she knows it. And she's not sure which hurts more, his feigned judgment or his true lack of faith in her.

Then again, she wasn't sure why she_ had_ to abide their exact ways. Her father might have been Moonshadow elf, but her mother was the more rarer sort. Startouch elves were a secluded sort, those that were left, and even fewer chose to live among others either with their own kind or other elves. But her mother, Desdemona, had, because she desired more than what was given to her; that same ambition led her to obtain the throne today as queen. After all, it was open to all since the goal was to produce a powerful heir.

Yet Theodosia wasn't like either of them in her ways, and that people had problems with. They all expected her to be exactly like them and got mad when she wasn't. It wasn't her fault! How was one expected to live up to their legacy? She wasn't a fighter, she wasn't an assassin, and she was nowhere near her mother's level as a mage, not when she was doing it _their _way rather than her own. The most she had succeeded in by their standards were her etiquette lessons (her mother could never say she wasn't a proper lady). So how was she supposed to even hope of being like them? Especially when to do so she might have to lose herself.

When tasked with great burdens, your personal wishes can't always come first. That doesn't mean you have to ignore them.

If she could just prove herself, maybe her personal wishes and her duty could come to a compromise... Theodosia tapped her bottom lip with the end of her pencil as she thought. Well, she might as well see the human kingdoms at some point. And they say the teenage years aren't complete without some teenage rebellion.

She could help. If only they'd let her. When she initially volunteered, her father immediately denied it, though he had no problem volunteering himself. Said she was more valuable here than there, that she could never take a life. Well, she could help more out there than be stuck useless here. What if something went wrong? In fact, she knew something would go wrong.

Startouch elves were so rare, their magic was little understood, only how it drew on the vast and timeless power of the cosmos, and how it involved divination and the ability to see into the great beyond. Theodosia was of two arcanums, but she recognized the pull of both, and knew a vision when one came to her. After her first when she was ten, she began to read and memorize every piece of knowledge she can find. It's not much, many scrolls come in languages she hadn't understood, and when she tried to read of one particular Startouch elf, the language kept changing, and so she ended up learning the languages too. Stories say that the visions will bring her knowledge of the future, let her see the allies, friends and lovers, those who will play an important role in her future. And so she had, getting many visions over the years. Some were simple visions of the coming dinner, and some were distant memories of the people and places, the books she would read and conversations she would hold.

This vision, however, was anything but pleasant. It was fast and sudden and felt like falling, but she never hits the ground. Her father is in front of her, bruised and on his knees in a cold, gray cell, his face wrapped in an illusion of fearlessness and loathing. But in his eyes, she can see past the illusion like she always has and sees he is afraid, and the vision scared her. She'd stumbled into a wall as she'd come to the present, breathing hard and fast.

So it wasn't just about proving herself capable, but helping someone who she knew would be in trouble. The minute she'd recovered, she'd been all but ready to leave.

Unfortunately, her mother had been one step ahead of her plans and knew what was going on within her daughter's head. After the first time her attempt to sneak out had been foiled, she had been locked in her room. Multiple other attempts later, (well, she wasn't going to let a locked door stop her. What type of person did they think she was, like, _hello_, mage-in-training, and it wasn't like she paid_ zero_ attention to lessons when they tried to train her before realizing her talent lied in magic. At the very least, she knew how to_ pick a lock_. She ought to be insulted they thought she was_ that_ weak!) Theodosia was stuck locked in her room with over half her personal objects gone, her spell book gone, an enchantment placed on the door, and nearly everything she kept in her room for quick use of a spell was taken or locked away.

So if she was going to try again, she needed to think this one through. One more failed attempt might result in some_ real_ consequences if she were caught.

What way wouldn't they expect? That they wouldn't be prepared for...

Instantly, her eyes wandered to the open window where a gentle breeze had blown through. The only reason they hadn't locked that one was because her room was in a tower, a good distance from the ground that even looking down made her head spin. Heights terrified her, and she definitely wouldn't consider it if it wasn't her last resort.

Her bag was on her desk beside her, stuffed with some clothes, a notebook with incantations she'd written down to keep herself from forgetting along with a few she'd made up herself and experimented with, a small bag of ingredients for spells she'd stashed in a floorboard beneath her bed when she realized her mother would have her room checked before leaving her alone again, and magical items she'd stored magic within. One of them she had ready to use in front of her right now.

Theodosia couldn't master the art of illusion herself and use it to mask her heart, but she had just about mastered the magic of them after years of studying and practicing. She planned to study the other primals, but the moon, the moon was her father's primal and had come to her first by second nature, and the stars hadn't been too far behind. Within the stone on the cord before her she'd created in case ages ago was an illusion spell to conceal her features so no one would recognize her and she could practically walk straight to the border once she was out. Another was in her bag for when she passed the border into the human kingdoms. To keep her safe from humans' eyes even if she walked directly among them.

People may think her weak, but they could never think her an idiot. She'd heard of what humans had done to her kind, and what they did with that foul dark magic of theirs.

Still, the very reason she'd created the amulet was if she ever wanted to see the enemy for herself, to see their lands. To see if it truly was what the stories told, a land stripped of all life, nature and beauty, the ground charred and everything a wasteland where humans fought each other for survival.

Well, it seemed now she'd get to find out for herself. The world was rich, full of mystery and wonder. Even if it got her hurt in the end, she wanted to take it all in and learn it with her entire being. And even if it wasn't the result of a good thing, she still planned on doing so.

For most of her life, Theodosia had never gone far from the walls of her home with too much responsibility, too many lessons, too many expectations, and although she wished it had been due to better terms, she couldn't help the rush of exhilaration of finally getting to see it all. All those emotions, which, she wrote down in her letter, and hoped in her journey, she'd learn who her mystery pen pal was.

For a few months now, Theodosia had been sending someone letters by a raven. The first had been a complete accident, meant to be sent to someone else, but they'd become friends over what they found a hilarious incident. Initially, they had bonded over feeling the odd one out of the family and never being able to live up to expectations, of striving to achieve their father's approval. They had both needed someone to talk to about the things they could never say to anyone else (Besides her little contact with the outside world, being the only of her kind made her feel quite lonely), maybe because it was easier to talk of them to a faceless name. She wasn't sure when precisely it had happened—maybe after reading one of many, many jokes that made her laugh when she'd spent half an hour crying, or something he wrote (he apparently wanted to be a poet if not a soldier)—but her heart would race in her chest whenever another letter arrived. Only problem was...she had no idea who he was.

They'd revealed their names to each other, but otherwise, they had never seen each other's faces. Or maybe she had in a vision, she could never tell.

Was it possible to fall in love with someone you never met?

But at the same time, Theodosia felt he was no stranger, and sometimes as she read his handwriting, she'd imagine what he looked and sounded like.

There were times Theodosia worried they would never meet. What if they just stopped sending letters one day? What if she ended up forever pining after him? What if he didn't see her that way as she saw him?

Theodosia was a hopeless romantic; she had never feared rejection because she was more in love with the feeling even if she knew they may never return her affections. She loved being in love, whether returned or unrequited. Even if it had broken her heart, made her cry in the end, and inadvertent destroy her room in her storm of emotions. But star-crossed _and_ unrequited? There was only so much her poor heart could take.

If her father didn't come back and she couldn't save him, she would have to marry and take the throne to rule. And her parents' marriage may have started out as a loveless one, but she couldn't bear that. Not when there was someone else she would much rather be with.

As she finished up her latest letter, probably her last until she came back, she placed a kiss on the parchment when she sealed it, leaving a faint pink lip print, placing an enchantment on the letter to give her mystery friend a small surprise once he opened it. And hopefully a pleasant one. She gave it to the raven on her windowsill to deliver, and once it was out of sight, she continued with her escape plan.

Some thought Theodosia was weak for being the way she was. But she'd show them the moon and stars were a strong force to be reckoned with, and so was she.

* * *

Rhun kept his hand along the walls as the path turned or lowered, keeping track of each hall he'd been last. Ezran was still nowhere to be found. Occasionally, Rhun would call out his name, receiving silence in return. Then he heard, "Rhun?" echo down from a set of stairs he'd gotten a bad aura from.

"Yeah, yeah, it's me," Rhun told him, cautiously heading down the steps, every hair on his neck standing up. But Ezran was his priority, he reminded himself, so he needed to keep him talking if he wanted to find him quicker. "You—you really had me worried. I told you you could only hide in your room, remember?"

"I know, but you really need to see this." Ezran's voice sounded small, amazed, and horrified all at once.

Once Rhun got off the last step, he found himself in a room where Ezran stood in the middle, holding a glowing Bait to provide better lighting in the dim setting. "Prince Ezran, I'm sorry about what Callum said, but—"

He froze suddenly as he took a moment to truly take note of his surroundings. There were skulls, various shriveled, dead creatures in jars and vials, and he swore he caught a horn or two from an unfortunate elf who'd met his end here. He was right not to trust Viren nor his children with his secret.

He'd always known dark magic was horrible, but seeing the horror of it made him swallow back the bile rising in his throat.

"Is this what they use for dark magic?" Ezran asked, his eyes widening as he clutched Bait a little tighter after catching what looked suspiciously like a shriveled glow toad floating in a jar filled with a liquid of some sort.

"Yeah...this is what humans do to magical creatures," Rhun mumbled, unsure if it were to himself or the boy.

Ezran took a deep breath to brace himself before continuing onward, trying to keep his eyes straight ahead. "Well, it doesn't look right."

"It isn't. Listen Ezran, we have to go."

"But there's something else in here," Ezran protested though Bait seemed to side with Rhun, whether because of the looming danger or the items in the lair also scared him. "It's not like everything else. It's alive, I think." He walked over to a pedestal where something stood, covered in a black cloth. He extended his ear toward it as if listening to something. "It's definitely alive. What do you think it is?"

"I don't know," Rhun sighed, "and if we don't know, we should probably leave it alone, Prince Ezran."

Once again ignoring him, Ezran set Bait on the floor and peeked under the cloth. His eyes were wide when he came back up. "You've got to see this!"

With a sigh, Rhun did as he was told, bending down and lifting up the cloth enough to peer beneath. And the sight that met him left him breathless. A large blue glowing egg, speckled with bright stars and colors, rested hidden. A gentle glow was in the center, throbbing with each heartbeat of the creature within. He had only seen it in the pictures of books, but he recognized it in an instant.

It was beautiful. It was mystifying. And if Rhun wasn't seeing it for himself, he wouldn't believe it was true.

Because here was the Dragon King's egg. Alive.


	9. When Faced With Assassins, RUN!

"It can't be," Rhun breathed, taking a step back once he released it. He still hadn't recovered from his shock of the sight. The egg was alive. Half the reason the assassins were coming, the justice they thought they'd receive for the Dragon King and prince's deaths, was actually all for naught. Not when the egg wasn't destroyed so much kidnapped, here and safe. Well, relatively safe considering the items around them. Why? Why go through and cause all this trouble for an _egg_?

Then the answer came to him. The question wasn't so much as why, but why _not_.

"This...this changes everything," he mumbled, biting down on his thumbnail while he thought.

"What do you mean?" Ezran asked, his large blue eyes curious.

"Prince Ezran, do you know what you just found?"

"No..."

"This is the egg of the Dragon Prince," Rhun breathed in wonder. "Six months ago, they killed the Dragon King, Thunder. And we thought that his egg was killed, too. That's why -" He cut off suddenly, remembering who he was talking to, and he glanced at Ezran.

"That's why they're...coming to kill Dad," Ezran said in a sad voice, looking up at him with those blue eyes. "Isn't it?"

Rhun chewed on his nail again before he sighed. He couldn't lie this time now that Callum had already let the cat out of the bag. "Yeah," he answered softly, looking away. "The assassins are elves coming to avenge their king and prince." The breaking point of high tensions transforming into all-out war wasn't true. Viren had only given them the illusion of it. A masterful illusion that was now risking the king and the kingdom's welfare, and leading both sides to break into war. For what, though? Was he in the right in his own mind? Did he think he was protecting his kingdom by faking the destruction of a defenseless egg? Did he plan to use it in one of his dark magic spells? Or had he planned to wait for the egg to hatch and then raise it as a weapon to be used against Xadia?

Deep in thought for a moment, Ezran lifted up his head as his eyes lit up. "But the egg _is_ alive, so all we have to do is show them, and then they won't have to kill him," he said excitedly. "If they see Dad didn't kill the Dragon Prince, they'll leave him alone. Maybe they can even start talking and no one has to die or get hurt!"

Rhun was silent a moment. "Prince Ezran, I'm sorry, but it's a lot more complicated than that."

"Why?"

"It-it just is."

"Well, we have to try." Ezran picked up Bait off the floor, hugging him close, a determined edge to his voice. "I don't want to lose Dad, too," he said in a quieter voice. His glow toad croaked sympathetically, and Rhun caved in.

"Alright, alright," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. "I...know someone who would listen to me, and maybe listen to you."

"Great!" Ezran's cheer echoed out through the lair, the boy quickly clapping a hand over his mouth as Rhun shushed him. "Great!" he repeated in a whisper-shout. "Let's go tell Callum!"

"Ezran-" The prince had already run off before he could get another word out. With a sigh, Rhun followed, knowing Ezran knew these passages much better than he did.

"By the way, who do you think will listen to us?" Ezran asked innocently as they climbed up the stairs

"One of the assassins' leaders."

"How do you know that?"

"He's my father."

A moment's silence. "Okay."

They climbed up to the top steps to a wide door at the entrance. Rhun heard voices behind it, and though he couldn't hear it, he got the gist of it. One was Callum's, the other was unfamiliar. In an instant, Rhun had out his baton and pressed a button, causing the blade to come slicing out one end. Either Ezran hadn't heard it, or he didn't recognize the danger as he whispered through the door, "Callum. Psst, Callum!"

"Shh! Go away!" hissed the older prince.

"But I have to show you something!"

"Are you talking to that painting?" the other voice, a new voice. A familiar accent, though, lilted her words. His father had the same, as did people coming to Katolis who'd spent the better part of their lives living near the border. Xadian.

"Heh, no, why would I do that?" Callum laughed nervously.

Rhun pushed Ezran to his side to better shield him if worse came to worse. But Callum was his responsibility also, so he had to ensure his safety as well as Ezran's. Slowly, he opened the door, although on the other side he could see it to be a portrait, enough to peek out. He caught Callum on the ground against the wall with a blade at his throat. And the owner of it...

Besides his father, Rhun had never seen another Moonshadow elf. This one didn't look all that different than what he'd imagined: lilac-tinted skin and hair bright and white as the moon, pointed ears, lavender eyes, and purple markings in thick lines descending beneath her eyes and ended in a point. A pair of horns could be seen, smaller, however, than an adult elf's horns. That pointed out something else to Rhun: this girl was a kid. She had to be around Callum's age. And that got Rhun to start thinking along the lines of...

_What were they thinking sending a teenager into the battlefield?!_

Regardless of whatever amount of experience she had or whatever customs the Moonshadow elves had, the thought crossed his mind.

"Get the kid out of here," Callum ordered, panic hidden in his eyes. That's when it clicked. This girl was here for Ezran, but she had no idea what the younger prince looked like. None of the assassins did, or at least, they hadn't told her. That could work to their advantage.

"Come on." Rhun tried to pull Ezran back the way they came, but he wouldn't move

"Callum, what's going on?" he asked, eyes shifting from Callum to her

"Callum?! I thought you were Prince Ezran!" the elf girl growled, narrowing her eyes at Callum. "You lied to me!"

"How is that worse than trying to kill someone?" Callum exclaimed.

As the assassin turned to Ezran, Rhun sighed, thinking up a way to delay her and give him time to save both princes. He could fight, but if she were here, there could be more waiting around the corner. He tried to ignore the other reason, which was that his conscience wouldn't let him fight a_ kid. At_ the very least, he give them time to run and come up with a better plan.

"Listen, listen," Rhun spoke up, gathering her attention as he slowly lowered his weapon, "I have a feeling you don't want to kill us, and well, we don't want to die, so let's compromise." She tensed at his words, so he continued, hoping he was right. After all, Moonshadow elves were trained to kill, didn't mean they liked it. His free hand slipped into his satchel, clasping around a small, smooth pellet, and crushed it as he drew it out. "Give me five seconds to state our case, and if you still want to kill us, I'll understand completely."

She pointed her sword towards him, but eventually, she said, albeit slightly uneasy, "Five seconds."

"Alright." Rhun lifted his closed hand to his mouth. "One-" He opened it to reveal a crushed, red powder, and abruptly blew it into her eyes. Her reaction was instantaneous as she cried out and her hands flew to her eyes, her swords dropping onto the floor as she released a stream of colorful curses to put a sailor to shame. "Run!"

Needless to say, when cornered by an assassin, it was in the princes' best interest to follow that word of advice.

* * *

Theodosia tied back her hair in several ties and loops that draped down her back, the ends resting at her hips. She was ready, or as ready as she'd ever be. She wore one of her simpler, more practical dresses with trousers beneath the skirt for sensibility. Pants only without the skirts would probably be a better choice so it couldn't catch on anything or be held back, but what could she say, she liked to look her absolute best whatever the circumstance. Life was a beauty contest; in any situation, it helped to look your prettiest, if not for the problem, for yourself.

Sure, that way of thinking was vain, and one of the many things about her scorned by her mother, but she always found that when she looked her best, she felt her best. After all, someone with as gorgeous a face as hers didn't deserve to be hidden in the shadows. Even now, as she was supposed to be going into disguise, she couldn't help fixing her hair so not a strand was out of place. Besides, if no one was going to admire her for anything else she did no matter how hard she tried, the least they could admire her for was her beauty.

Silver bells were tied onto the end of her silver-white hair, and they chimed slightly whenever a particular movement jostled them together. She couldn't use any obvious magic, or else someone might notice, so she would have to escape the harder but just as effective way. Beforehand, she had begun tying her bed sheets together with some of her more durable gowns and dresses in her closet to make a rope, each time tugging lightly to check its strength before moving onto the next knot. Whenever someone came to check on her and ensure she was still there, she'd hide it under her pillow and put on the illusion of a princess who was certainly not planning anything at all, whatever could you mean.

As she placed the necklace around her neck, the illusion spell took effect almost instantly, disguising her features with a stranger's. Looking in the mirror, it was strange, knowing it was her, but seeing someone else entirely. To the naked eye, she seemed to be another random Moonshadow elf that could fade into the crowd.

And for a moment, she wondered if it would be so bad to disappear, to leave it all behind. Here, everyone wanted so many different things from her. It felt like she was chopping herself into pieces to keep everyone satisfied, as though she was both feeding and fending off wolves at the door. But there were too many responsibilities for her to cast aside, and the thoughts evaporated in her mind.

Quickly, she skimmed through her notebook, seeing all experiments she'd used to create her own spells. The first two-thirds were crammed with notes and diagrams, written in cramped, slanted and messy handwriting meant to squash as much information possible onto the page. Nothing at all like her father's neat, tidy handwriting. Then again, he wasn't writing fast enough to keep up with her hypothesis and experiments with magic before it faded from her memory, if she missed one note or one detail that produced the desired result, it would end up catastrophic. That had been learned the hard way, considering last time she'd just barely avoided singeing her eyebrows...her room on the other hand had not been so lucky...

There weren't only those on magic experimentation. One page was about the reaction experiments she'd done when she was younger with rats, mice, bugs, and other little magical critters she had been able to get her little hands on despite the wrath she'd often face in return, just to see the fight or flight response in action. It was hilarious, even though most of the time it nearly ended in her death every time. Of course, the last time she'd tried that with her father, (it was how she, and half the kingdom by how loud he screamed, figured out King Draven, a proud and "fearless" assassin and king, was _freaking_ _terrified_ of spiders, no matter the kind) he threatened to disown her if she ever did it again. Still, he shrieked like a little girl loud enough to wake half of Xadia, so Theodosia counted that as a win.

The last section of the book, however, was blank, the pages pure white and yet to be touched, especially since its author could no longer continue her research. For now. Maybe in the human kingdoms, she could continue experimenting only with different kinds of magic she found, maybe cross-reference it with some more of the books she had memorized, try to pin down origins and what made the magic work, maybe develop more theories over the primal sources and of that one Startouch elf she had to keep learning new languages to keep up with if she wanted to learn about. An enchantment, no doubt, but what was it that made them take such drastic measures to keep anyone from reading about him?

Perhaps it was only wishful thinking, but she felt like it had to be some kind of piece in a much larger puzzle, stretching from the ancient past to today. If she could only read closely enough, if she could decipher the text more accurately, if she could find some match to the numerous writings, poems, and pages referencing the Archmage Aaravos –

Sighing, she snapped her book shut and returned it into her bag, securing it around her shoulders. She just needed to do better. _Be_ better. Show them she could be better or at least good enough as she was. She had to – after all, who would ever want a girl who disappointed them?

Her whole body was sick with nerves: it locked her jaw tight and closed her throat. Now or never.

Now after heaving the makeshift rope over to the window, bracing herself once she looked down to estimate if it was long enough, she turned to her bed and turned over something in her head. Something that might at least give her a few minutes head start if yet another person came up to check she hadn't made another attempt to leave. Walking over to her bed, she looked it over, and thought before closing her eyes and concentrated, singing an incantation softly under her breath. When Theodosia opened her eyes, she found an illusion of herself sitting up in her bed, eyes closed. At first glance, anyone could be fooled, and as long as anyone didn't look too closely, she should be good for a while. She drew the curtains around the bed, the shadow visible so anyone who came in would think she was merely asleep or sulking.

Ironically, she was good at producing illusions with magic, just not on her heart.

As Theodosia climbed down out the window, she grew dizzy, breathing deep to keep herself calm, sharp-clawed hunger digging into her ribs and slipping up her spine. Her hands were bloodless, cold and stiff, grasping the cloth so tightly the knuckles were white. But she remembered her vision and kept going. She could see herself from the outside, as well, and her face may have betrayed her fear yet she refused to be a victim to it. Maybe it wasn't so much as not showing fear but not letting it overcome you – that was all that mattered, in truth, wasn't it?

Theodosia almost bit her lip, but stopped herself just in time – if she bit her lips they would grow ugly and chapped and scarred. Instead she focused on keeping her grip, refusing to let her hands shake.

Laughing caused crow's feet. Frowning caused wrinkles. Crying blotched your skin, screaming ruined your voice. But no one could ever fault her for looking perfectly, exquisitely empty. She couldn't master the illusion of fearlessness, but with the newfound thought that one was only as brave as they make-believed, she tried. She could do this, and even if she couldn't, she had to.

* * *

(Author's Note: So here's the next chapter! :) P.S. sometimes, I like to place my OCs in Hogwarts houses while I write, and a lot of the time I can't decide, but I am certain about one. I remember thinking throughout this chapter that...Theodosia is definitely a Ravenclaw. Anyway, back on topic! Hot pepper, don't get into your eyes, it burns like you never believe, and trying to rub or wash it out makes it way worse! Hope you liked this one! )


	10. Unlikely Allies

(Author's Note: Okay, warning, it diverges a little from Canon from here)

Rhun could swear he had left skid marks on the stairs from his hurry down the stairs and the sharp turns he made in an effort to get away. "Hurry up, follow me!" called Ezran.

"You're only making this worse!" shouted the elf girl from somewhere behind them.

"Oh, joy, this day can get worse," Rhun grumbled.

"This way!" Ezran ran to the left, and Rhun had to grab Callum's wrist as he slid.

"Cannot have one of you two falling with an assassin on our tail because then you are on your own!"

As they got to the wall Ezran had took him through before, Callum stumbled back, obviously not knowing the wall to be anything more than a dead end. "Time for a puzzle!" Ezran grinned as he began to press different stones in the wall. "Rock, rock, stone, rock, stone, stone, rock, stone, rock, stone, stone-"

"Wait, what's the difference between the rocks and the stones?" Callum questioned.

"This is not the time, Callum. Just go with it," Rhun sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ugh! You made me do stone instead of rock!" Ezran exclaimed. "Rock, rock, stone, rock, stone, stone, rock, stone, rock!" A spiral staircase opened below Callum's feet, and Rhun ushered the brothers down as quickly as possible. As they went down, he remembered what Ezran had done last time and pushed down a small totem to close the staircase. "Yes!"

"You sure she won't be able to follow us?" Callum asked.

"No way. It took me over a month to figure out that combination!"

"Careful, you might have just jinxed it," Rhun said, more intent on finding a way out from here. And then the staircase opened and spiraled down, revealing the elf girl on its steps. In an instant his weapon was drawn.

"But how did you..." Ez started.

"I just pressed all the stones with the jelly handprints," the girl smirked. With narrowed eyes, Rhun glanced at Ez, who gave a bashful apologetic look after he facepalmed and left an orange jelly handprint. The girl approached slowly, looking around at the corpses and parts of animals. Rhun fought the urge to do the same, remembering the dreadful feeling that made him sick to his stomach.

"What is this place? Runaan is right. There's _nothing_ in humans worth sparing. _Time's__ up._" The elf pointed her blade at them. "Humans destroyed the egg of the dragon prince. There _must _be justice."

"You'll have to get through me." Rhun stepped in front of the princes. "This isn't right, and I think you know that. Either that or it was just way too easy to make you fall for one of the oldest tricks in the book.

"_Really?_" she growled. Her eyes were red and the skin around them was irritated. Every now and then, she'd blink furiously and it seemed she was making an effort not to rub her eyes to get out the burning sensation. She walked closer.

"Wait! You need to see something," Ezran peeked out from behind him. He started to walk in front, but Rhun held out a hand to keep him back.

"I'm not falling for any tricks this fine!" The elf held her blade up.

"Sorry about that." Ez replied. Bait croaked and turned an orange color. "But there's no trick this time! Please, look."

"Fine. You uncover it. _Slowly._"

"I know why you're here. You're here to kill us and Dad, but you don't _have_ to. The egg's here, and I can hear inside. It's alive!" Ez pulled off the cloth, revealing the dragon prince's egg for them all to as see.

"It-It can't be..." the elf girl gasped. "The egg... It wasn't destroyed..."

"No," Rhun said slowly. "Have we made our case?"

"So this is it? The egg of the dragon prince?" Callum leaned closer.

"I can't believe it! If the egg lives..." The girl trailed off.

"It could stop the war_,_" Rhun finished. "No more fighting, no revenge cycle. Just peace. Imagine that, just for a minute."

The elf came closer and knelt by the egg. "Don't worry, he's okay in there. I can feel it!" Ezran smiled. To his surprise, the elf smiled back.

"But how?! W-Why wasn't it destroyed?" Callum questioned.

"Because my father saved it." A stray but familiar voice came from behind the group. Rhun and the elf whipped around to find Claudia walking toward them. Her eyes centered in on the girl and then to Rhun. "He was right then, about you." This she directed at Rhun, her eyes narrowed. "You're a spy, aren't you, and you let them walk right in!"

"I'm not a spy, and I didn't plan anything," Rhun shot back, practically rehearsed from all the times he had to convince anyone who suspected his heritage.

"Of course you did, my father told me that you said yourself your father was part of the party, and he _still_ decided to trust you." Rhun tensed at her words. So someone _had_ listened in. "How could you do this?"

"You have to believe me, it's not what you think," he pleaded, sparing a glance behind him at Callum as if also begging him to understand. "I am trying to keep them safe_ from_ him."

"Yeah, right! Callum, Ezran, get behind mine! I'll project you!" Claudia growled as she raised her hand to perform a spell, a dark orb in the other.

"Your father didn't save the egg, he stole it!" the elf girl protested, fury in her voice. Ezran quickly took the egg off the pedestal and held it close.

"_That's a lie_!"

"Well, Claudia, why is it here then?" Rhun demanded.

"My father took it to protect us. So the elves and dragons couldn't use it."

"What are you talking about? how can we use it?!" The elf kept her blade up, pointed at Claudia.

"Don't play dumb! You know it's a powerful weapon."

"An _egg_?! I can't even make breakfast with this thing" Rhun snapped in exasperation.

Claudia scoffed, then turned to Ezran. "Ezran, don't be afraid. Walk towards me, and if she moves even an inch!" Claudia threatened as she drew a rune, lightning building in her hand. "Just bring that thing here..."

"It's not a thing! It has a mother, and it needs to go back to her!" the elf girl said.

There was a moment in which Ezran looked between her and Claudia, between the dark mage he'd known all his life and the assassin who'd stated her assignment to kill him. Then that moment ended and he seemed to have decided.

"You're right. It wants its mother," he nodded.

"Ezran be careful..."

"Follow me." Ez ran out down a hall with the others following close behind while Callum burst forward at Claudia. Just as Callum caught up to them after taking care of her, a loud howl echoed through the hall.

"And it's official. I am never babysitting again!" Rhun grumbled.

"There's something after us!" Callum cried out. The elf slid to a stop and took out her blades.

"Keep running!"

"Wait, not that way!" Ezran called out. "This way!" Quickly, Rhun grasped the edge of Callum's scarf and pulled him along to go the way Ezran had scurried, following the bright glow Bait gave off.

"Why not?" Callum asked.

"Because that way's a dead-end!"

"Sounds right," Rhun panted. He faltered when he remembered the girl was no longer with them.

"And you, what was exactly was Claudia talking about back there?" Callum demanded suddenly.

"Let's wait for the time to have this talk."

"Oh, sure, let's all wait for the designated talk-about-your-dad-trying-to-kill-ours time!"

With Ezran leading the way and halfway up another staircase, Rhun began to fall back. He glanced between the princes and the way back, listening to the girl elf's struggle against the monsters. "Listen, go on without me, and if I don't catch up, go to your father!"

Without waiting for a response, Rhun rushed in the opposite direction, his steps slapping against the stone. By the time he returned to where he'd seen the girl last, she was fighting off a pair of large black and purple wolves made of smoke, her swords passing straight through before they'd rematerialized. She wasn't looking too well with burns and bite marks on her skin from where the wolves had gone past their defenses.

"I can't stop them! They're just smoke. My swords pass right through," the elf tried to explain as she backed away from the smoke wolves.

Somehow Rhun knew it to be a result of dark magic. He'd never seen it up, except the once Desdemona showed him a last defense spell if all else failed and he was backed into a corner. But the impression has stuck with him. Dark magic had an unnatural feel unlike that of using the arcanums

Putting his fingers to his mouth, Rhun whistled to gather the wolves attention, then in a swift motion drew the rune in the air, whispering the word, "_Confundo."_

The rune still hanging in the air, he blew on it, causing a similarly-colored dust to fall upon the wolves, who blinked and shook their heads before opening them again and growling at invisible prey in the opposite direction before taking off. Ignoring the girl elf's incredulous look as she looked at him then at the retreating wolves, he went back the way the princes had gone.

"But you don't have a..." She trailed off as her expression turned into one of apprehension. "If you don't have a primal stone, how did you—"

"Less talking, more walking, please," Rhun snapped, thoroughly done with today. "Oh, and in case you've got a smart mouth, too, yes, it seems you're gonna have to wait for the designated talk-about-doing-primal-magic time!"

Once they caught up with the princes, they were opening a portrait into what looked to be an empty throne room. The king had probably already been escorted off to wherever it was thought safest by the Crownguards. Outside, the sun was setting, hastening the coming threat.

"Listen, I need you to give me the egg. I have to get it to the roof _right _away,_" _the girl elf insisted as she approached Ez.

"What? Why?" Ezran asked.

"Just...Trust me," The elf replied as she held out her hand.

"Right, right, that makes sense!" Callum said sarcastically. "Since we go way back! Like that one time ten minutes ago when you chased me through the castle trying to _stab_ me?! Haha! Good times!" He frowned.

"You might not realize it, but I'm trying to help you. Any moment now, others will be arriving! Others like _me_!" The elf snapped.

"She's right, they're the assassins I'm _trying_ to keep you away from," Rhun sighed. "A job no one's making easy, but I still have to do."

"I need to show them the egg to stop them. Just give it to me!"

Ezran glanced at the elf, then glanced at Bait, and shook his head. "I'll hold it for now."

"I have another idea," Rhun said, trying to think of which way to go  
without drawing too much attention. On one hand, no one would think it odd of them to leave. On the other, they might think it odd they had a Moonshadow elf with them who, if Callum's remark had any base, had likely made enough noise for them to be searching for her. Plus, there was no telling how long Claudia would remain out of the chase. Out that door could be more guards to give the illusion the king was inside. Rhun went over to the nearest window and looked down.

Hay cart. Good enough.

"On one condition. If we live, you boys don't breath a word of this to your father."

"What do you mean—"

Callum didn't get to finish his sentence before Rhun smashed the windowpane with his baton and gestured at the now open window. "How do you feel about heights?"

"No, no, no," Callum protested, shaking his head frantically in a way that told very well how he felt about heights. "That's crazy. We could die."

"Well, we could chance it and head for the roof where we could waste time and the assassins won't be so willing to listen as the one I'm taking you to, or you could take our chances here and trust me. Either way, I'm more inclined to what I think is the best way to do my duty, which is to keep your brother_ safe._"

"No, it's better if we just take the egg to the roof for them to see," the girl argued.

"_No_, my father told me about Runaan and his team, that he believes in justice and has conviction, that once he makes up his mind, no one can change it. Excuse me if from that description, I'd rather leave our lives to fate than your assumption he'll listen," Rhun said.

She was speechless, then pointed her sword at him, eyes narrowed. "I never said his name."

"I'll explain later, but now..." The sky was getting gradually darker. "We need to leave."

"I'll go first, I trust him," Ezran said, stepping to his side. "If he wanted to hurt us, he would have. He had plenty of chances."

"Alright, but I need you to give me the egg first." Rhun held out his hands. "Just in case." Once the young prince handed it to him, Ezran hugged Bait tightly before jumping out the hole Rhun made.

There was a distant, thump a few seconds later, then a cheerful, "I'm okay! So's Bait!"

Callum was...difficult. Rhun had to practically toss him out. Luckily there was only a pained groan two seconds later, no sounds of breaking bones or agonized screaming.

Also good enough. It was odd. Over the years he'd become used to premeditating plans beforehand, and_ then_ carrying them out. And now it seemed he was forced to make it all up as he went along.

It'd been a simple, efficient plan he had to work with. But people weren't like machines or weapons, you could never plan for their _actions_.

And to think! Tonight of all nights, his plan had warped so out of control he was willing to settle for _adequate_ of all things.

(Author's Note: Hi, again! Also, any name suggestions for the other four elves in Runaan's team because I really wish we at least knew their names here, plus I want to include them! The TDP Twitter account keeps saying they'll release the names soon, but we are two seasons in, guys! Any ideas about what to name them for my fanfic would be seriously appreciated! Either way, hope you're having a lovely day!)


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